Silver Ashes
by Alexa S. Blaze
Summary: Back on the helicarrier, the weapons weren't the only thing Nick Fury was hiding. There was also a girl - a teenager. Not a normal one, though. Samantha was forced to become part of the Avengers, but her impact on the team was so much greater than anyone could have imagined. She ended up changing the heroes' lives - whether they wanted it or not. STEVExOC and TONYxOC friendship.
1. Prologue: Hero of my Life

**Hello, people! My name is Lexi Blaze, and I'm here to entertain you with my new brainchild. I went out and saw The Avengers twice last week, and quite frankly, I fell in love with it. After hours of sitting in science class and not being able to fall asleep at night . . . this story was born.**

**I'm not so sure if this chapter will make sense, but don't worry – it's just the prologue :P As you know the summary is this: **_**Back on the helicarrier, the weapons weren't the only thing Nick Fury was hiding. There was also a girl - a teenager. Not a normal one, though. Samantha was forced to become part of the Avengers, but her impact on the team was so much greater than anyone could have imagined. She ended up changing the heroes' lives - whether they wanted it or not. TONYxOC friendship and STEVExOC.**_

**Just a warning, the STEVExOC stuff won't come in for a while. I want to make this story as realistic as possible (besides the fact everyone's running around in tights with superpowers while fighting aliens). What I mean is that I'm going to do some heavy character development stuff, and not only with my OC. And people aren't going to fall in love overnight xD **

**This story will take place during the movie timeline, and it'll start a little less than halfway through. Anyway, thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review if you do read – I'd love to know if anyone is going to read this story :) Tell me how I'm doing, what you think of this prologue, and if my writing is okay. Anonymous reviews **_**are **_**accepted, but please guys, no flames. **

**Readers, assemble!**

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Tony Stark's POV

"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show."

Those would be the words of Charles Dickens, in _David Copperfield_. I've never liked Charles Dickens, and I've never understood his stories. But now, all of a sudden, that one quote seems so . . . personal.

Let me introduce myself. I'm Tony Stark: a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist . . . and a superhero. Yes, I'm Iron Man, the greatest hero to ever roam this earth. Seriously, not even that prick Captain America is better than me. But that's another story (okay, not really – it's this story. I'll get there).

Anyway, since I'm the best Avenger, I've gotten the job of - oh, you don't know what an "Avenger" is? Have you been living under a rock for the past year? _The Avengers_ is a group of superheroes - a group that I'm part of. You know, _Earth's Mightiest Heroes. _All that stuff. There aren't many of us, but we all have our own individual skills. Except dear Captain America, of course. He's useless.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Since I'm the best of the best, I've been given the job of writing everything down. What is everything, you say? Well, "everything" is pretty much all that's happened since the Avengers first joined, up until now. All the fights and all the shawarma; all the planning and training and biting and yelling and shampoo fights (don't ask).

I don't remember who suggested that we write this stuff down, and quite frankly, I don't care. I've simply been handed a brown leather journal along with an ugly pink pen, and I've been told to _write._ I think it's a stupid idea. What's going to happen, some random teenage girl is going to find this journal and post it on a fanfiction website? Please. If anything, I think I've been told to write this down so we don't forget what we've been through, and how we've felt.

Okay, so, I lied. I'm not supposed to write _everything_ down. We're all going to switch parts - I'll write some of this story, bloody Captain America will write some more, Thor will probably hit me with his stupid Wal-Mart hammer if we try to get him to write something, etcetera. I don't think there are many Avengers who want to record our story, so the burden has fallen on my shoulders. For now. Before I threaten someone else to do it – my hand's already cramping up. Like, seriously – couldn't we have typed this thing on a computer?

It's hard to say where our story starts. I could start from the beginning - way back when I first became Iron Man. I could also start from when Agent Coulson first called me in to join the "Avengers".

But instead, I'm going to start halfway through. You wanna know why? Well I'm not going to tell you. Suck that.

Okay, okay, never mind. I like to speak out loud while I write (it's my only flaw), and the Captain's yelling at me. "Tell the whole truth," he's saying in that annoying high-pitched voice of his, "even if we don't like it and you don't want to write it."

Fine, you want me to tell the truth? I think the Captain is a useless piece of glamorized crap who needs to drop the "I'm perfect" act, and who needs to slim down. Seriously, buddy, the "strength of a hundred soldiers" thing makes you look fat.

Okay, okay, ow! That hurt! You didn't have to hit me do damn hard, I'm sorry, all right?

(Actually, I'm not sorry, but the Captain is so gullible and trusting he'll believe anything anyone says, even me.)

OKAY OW I'M SORRY, I guess I took it a little far that time.

Now I don't even remember where I was in this damn story. Oh, right – I was talking about the beginning. Hell, I hadn't even _started_ the beginning. This is going to end up as the longest story ever. Maybe I should just give the journal to Agent Romanoff, she'll make the story short. I'm pretty sure it'll just read "Tony is an idiot, I kicked everyone's asses and now 'there's no more red in my ledger', the end."

Okay, Cap's giving me a look. I should probably get back to work.

I'm going to start this story at the beginning - which could also count as the middle. It's going to begin with me and Bruce Banner - you know, the big green angry monster guy, except in normal human form. It's going to begin with the two of us, standing in the lab on the helicarrier. It's going to begin with Captain bursting in on us, doing our work. It's going to begin with both me and Bruce agreeing that Fury is keeping something from us. It's going to begin with Captain storming out of the room while I hack S.H.I.E.L.D's files.

And what I ended up finding was so much more than the weapons Cap found (that's 1 for Tony, 0 for the loser in tights). It was definitely much more – because I found an actual _person_.

And now I'm back full circle. That quote at the beginning of this was there for a reason. Let me refresh your dimwitted memory: "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show."

I always thought I'd be the hero of my own life. I mean, come on – I'm Tony Stark, synonym for awesome. I'm the coolest Avenger and the best hero. No one is better than me.

And that still rings true . . . but that person I found on the helicarrier is the real hero in my life.

No, they didn't save me or something when I was about to die. They didn't save the world all by themselves, either. But they saved the Avengers.

Now I'm getting confusing. I'm even confusing myself, and that's a hard thing to do - I'm just too damn smart.

This mysterious person that I speak of didn't technically "save" the Avengers. They didn't save Iron Man, and Cap, and Thor and Hulk and the two assassins. They saved the people we are - Tony Stark and Steve Rogers (_such _a boring name) and the other losers who I'm too lazy to mention.

I can confidently say I would not be the man I am today if not for the mysterious person on the helicarrier. I mean, sure, I'd be a cool guy . . . but I wouldn't really have soul, you know?

Okay no, you don't. This entire introduction probably didn't even make sense. Maybe I should just start the damn story - and then you'll understand what I mean when I say this person "saved us." And you want to know who they saved us from?

Ourselves.

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**Tell me what you think, guys! The more reviews, the faster I'll update :3 Nah, who am I kidding – I'm too excited for this story to leave you guys hanging for long. Please leave a review though, and tell me what you think! Remember, this is just the prologue :P **

_**Readers, assemble!**_

**- Lexi Blaze**


	2. Half the Secret

Tony Stark's POV

_"To know one has a secret is to know half the secret itself" - Henry Ward Beecher. _

And I knew that Director Nick Fury had a secret.

As I said, I'm going to start this story halfway through. I'm just going to assume that you already know what happened in Germany with Loki, and that you know I was stuck on the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier with a bunch of superlosers. Loki was being held captive, and we were still looking for the Tesseract. Basically, a lot of boring shit was going down.

A meeting had just been held on the bridge – a meeting that had been very important. Why? Because I had bugged the entire S.H.I.E.L.D computer system, of course. Those morons never saw it coming.

I knew Fury was hiding something – I could feel it in my bones. It just turned out to be different than what I expected.

Bruce Banner (my buddy with the anger problems) and I had just walked into the lab built specifically for finding the Tesseract. It was a nice lab, I guess. But if I had been put in charge of its design, it would've been so much better. Just saying. But really, they should call me about these things.

We exchanged a few comments about our search for the Cosmic Cube . . . okay, seriously, why am I even writing this? It's boring. No one is going to want to read it. Banner told me it'll take weeks to find the Tesseract, blah blah blah. Do I actually have to write every freaking word?

Let's begin at a more interesting part: I zapped Banner in the side with an electrical metal prod of some sort. I wanted to see what the big guy would do, but to my disappointment, he only shot me a glare and said "Ow". Honestly, I had thought the guy was more exciting.

Captain's reaction was a lot more interesting, of course. He's just so upright about everything. The Captain stormed into the lab in that big "I'm better than you" way of his, giving me a glare that I'm now quite familiar with.

"Is everything a joke to you?" I remember him asking, his eyebrows creased in a way that made him look constipated.

"Funny things are," I shrugged.

"Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship is not funny. No offense, Doc," he looked at Banner. Seriously, this guy needed to take the stick out of his ass.

"N-no, it's okay; I wouldn't come aboard if I couldn't handle . . . pointy things," Banner stuttered nervously. I strolled away from him, briefly pointing my stick back in his direction.

"You're tip-toeing, big man," I said to him, "You need to strut."

The Captain, of course, didn't miss his chance to rain on my parade: "And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark."

"You think I'm not?" I questioned.

Okay, _now_ we're getting to the interesting stuff.

". . . Why did Fury call us, and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables," I told dear old Cap, watching his reaction – or lack of it – carefully.

"You think Fury's hiding something?" the Captain asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

"He's a spy. Captain, he's _the_ spy. His secrets have secrets." I pointed to Banner, but didn't take my eyes off Captain. "It's bugging him too, isn't it?"

As Banner looked up from his work nervously – honestly, that guy is a nervous wreck; I should recommend him a therapist – as I opened up a packet of blueberries and dumped a few in my mouth. They tasted terrible, but at least it was food - this damn helicarrier seemed to have a shortage of that.

"Uhhhh . . ." Banner trailed off, glancing around shiftily. He waved his hands around, trying to ignore us and the awkward situation. "I just wanna finish my work here, and-"

"Doctor?" Cap asked, sounding a bit unsure. The numbskull had realized Banner was avoiding the question – and that was practically his way of saying, "yeah, Fury's a big fat liar".

The next two minutes of my life were successfully wasted while Banner and I tried to convince Cap that Fury was indeed hiding something. I also got into a fight with Freedom Pants (heh heh, I think I'm going to use that nickname more often) about style – not that he had any. And he seemed quite opposed to the fact that I was having JARVIS hack all of S.H.I.E.L.D's files. I bet that to him, hacking was just as bad as murder. That guy is so infuriating.

Halfway through a brilliant insult I had planned for Cap, Banner interrupted. "Steve," he said, and the blonde looked up at Banner.

"Tell me none of this smells a little funky," my scientist friend said plainly.

Captain looked around uncomfortably, as if he knew we were right . . . but didn't want to admit it out loud.

"Just find the Cube," he finally said, before storming out of the room in a huff. Wow, who shit in his cornflakes this morning?

Something started beeping loudly in my pocket, and I pulled out my Stark phone. Banner didn't even look faintly interested in what it was, but I told him anyway.

"JARVIS has hacked one of the files," I said, proudly. But as I opened it up, my heart sank. There were about three lines of information in the file - and they could hardly be called "useful".

I sat down on one of the lab tables, skimming the info. "Apparently," I sighed, "In room 30-2 B, there is someone – or something – named 'Sam'. The only information about 'Sam' is that it is highly unstable and _possibly_ quite dangerous. But that's it," I felt disappointment swell in my chest, but I didn't let it show on my face.

"Maybe 'Sam' is some sort of weapon that Fury's developing. Or a program," Banner suggested, not taking his eyes off his computer screen. "It could stand for 'Super Amazing Mom' or something. Or 'Secret Ammunition Memoranda.'

"Oh, yeah, because Fury's probably hiding a _mother_ on the helicarrier," I rolled my eyes. ". . . but you might be right about 'Sam' standing for something," I exclaimed, hopping up from the counter. "I'm going to go check it out – the computer won't be giving me any more information anytime soon. Hold down the fort for me, will ya?" I asked.

"You should take someone with you," Banner interjected just before I walked away. "The file said it was unstable and dangerous. Maybe you should take Thor, for extra protection."

"I don't need protection," I scrunched up my nose, acting offended. Banner just sighed as I strode out of the lab, intent on finding room 30-2 B.

On the way, I did end up running into Thor. He had that hammer of his – Mjolnir, or something – with him, and he was swinging it around carelessly.

"Watch what you're doing with that thing," I frowned, eyeing the hammer. I remembered when I first met him in the forest, and Captain came along. "Put the hammer down," Cap had said, and I had responded with an "Uh, no! He loves it!" It seemed that still applied.

"Hello, friend," Thor nodded at me as I passed him in the hallway.

"I'm not your friend," I responded without missing a beat. I went to walk right past him, but Banner's words came back and stopped me. _Unstable and dangerous. _"Say, you wouldn't be up for a little detective work, would you?"

"What's a detective?"

"Uh . . . you know. A sleuth." The great dumb ox just shook his head, and I sighed. "It's when you go poking around in places that are supposed to be off-limits, but are actually filled with magical, whimsical things." At this, he grinned and nodded.

We headed down the hallway towards the back of the helicarrier together, as I quickly explained what I was searching for.

"Is that not a common name among you mortals? 'Sam'?" Thor commented. "Maybe it is simply a person."

"Who is 'highly dangerous and unstable'? I doubt it," I frowned. We walked in silence for a few more minutes, but I found it uncomfortable. "You have such perfectly coiffed, feminine hair," I couldn't help but say.

"I am not a girl," Thor retorted, sounding offended.

"Sure fight like one," I shrugged, making a face. Thor didn't say anything, but if looks could kill, I'd be dead three times over.

Room 30-2 B was at the very back of the helicarrier – way out of our way. I wouldn't have come back here in a hundred years if I hadn't been looking for the room . . . and that was probably Fury's intention. From the outside, it was just a nondescript door with the room number on it – nothing special. But I was anxious to see what this "Sam" thing was. My guess was that it was either a weapon or a program, and Thor's guess was that it was a man.

In the end, we were both wrong.

The door was locked – from the outside, I noted – but Thor broke it open in no time. He didn't even have to rip the door off its hinges; that guy is so strong, he just needed to turn the handle and it broke the lock. I remarked to myself that it could be a useful skill later in life, if he ever wanted to sneak up on someone in a locked room, but I didn't say anything. We didn't want his ego getting as big as mine.

Thor pushed the door open to reveal a plain blue room. If the room I was staying in was first-class (which it wasn't), then this room would be the bathroom in comparison. That is, the public bathroom for poor people. There were no windows; just a door leading to a washroom, and the door that Thor and I had come through. A bed with thin blue blankets and a very sad-looking pillow was in the corner, beside a white bedside table with a clock on it. A dresser, a chair and a floor lamp the size of Thor were the only other things in the room.

My eyes traveled to the only non-depressing thing in the room – a person. Yes, there was an actual person living in the room. I thought of Thor's comments, about how "Sam" was probably a man . . .

Except this person was a girl.

"Sam" had her back to us, and I could see a pair of pink iPod headphones in her ears; an iPod Touch was in her hand. Ahh, so that was why she hadn't heard us come in – she was listening to music. The only feature of hers I could see was the long, wavy blonde hair trailing down her back, as she sat on the bed doing pretty much nothing.

God, I hoped for her sanity's sake that her iPod had Wi-Fi. Honestly, how could one person possibly sit in this room and _just_ listen to music? Had she gone mental yet? Was this some sort of modern torture?

"Hello, friend!" Thor said boomingly, in his typical I-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing fashion. He spread his arms out wide, as if expected the girl to run to him and hug him.

Instead, she jumped up and whirled around to face us, letting out a small scream of surprise as she ripped the headphones out of her ears. She was a relatively pretty girl – nothing special, but not bad-looking either – with a straight nose, big almond-shaped grey eyes, and a full bottom lip. Her skin was smooth and pale, but her cheeks were flushed.

I then noticed her expression – the way her eyes were wide, her forehead was creased, and her mouth was hanging open in a small _O._ She didn't just look scared of me and Thor . . . she looked . . . _terrified. _

And that was when the floor lamp beside Thor spontaneously burst into flame.

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**READERS, ASSEMBLE!**

**Sorry this thing took so long to get up – Fanfiction wouldn't let me post anything until . . . right now, actually. It killed me to leave my story, even though I only had the prologue up. Anyway, here's the new chapter, and I hoped you guys enjoyed it!**

**I hope this isn't moving too slow . . . or too quickly. As you know, this is my first Avengers fic, so go easy on my :P This is obviously just set-up at the moment, and I didn't want to bore you guys by repeating all the movie lines, over and over. Anyway, some "interesting" stuff will happen next chapter ;)**

**Just so you guys know . . . I'm planning on making a trilogy [with this story material]. Or, you could basically say that this is the prologue to two stories that I'm planning xD I like to believe that the other stuff will be more interesting because 1) There will be more Steve in it (heh heh heh) and 2) It'll be my original stuff, so you guys won't have seen it in the movie! Anyway, that's just my way of telling you all to stick around ;P**

**Please review, guys! I like to respond to every singed review :) it really means a lot to me when you guys comment and tell me what you think, and I appreciate the time you take to click that big beautiful blue button down below. Thank you so, so much to **_**GoForTehGig, anon, funwriting, 3DY3Namite, bayumlikedayum **_**and **_**ILoveReadingAndWriting**_** for reviewing last time! It means the world to me, and I hope you guys will tell me what you think of this chapter too ;)**

**I'll see you soon, lovelies – there will only be a one-to-two day wait for the next chapter! But until then . . . **

_**Readers, assemble!**_


	3. Successful Flames

Tony Stark's POV

_Success is not the result of spontaneous combustion. You must first set yourself on fire. - Fred Shero_

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If anyone asks, it was _Thor_ who screamed like a girl and jumped about a foot in the air when the lamp erupted in flames. Not me. Don't listen to whoever tells you that it was me, because they're lying. Okay? Okay.

So, here we are again. Standing in a plain, boring room with a terrified girl and a flaming lamp. As I said, Thor screamed shrilly and jumped in the air. _I_ just looked at it in confusion.

"Who are you people? What do you want?" the blonde girl asked, backing away from us slowly. Her voice wavered as she spoke, and she seemed unsure of her words.

"I am Thor, Son of Odin and-"

Thor was cut off (thank God, it usually takes him like 20 minutes to get through all his titles) by the wooden ceiling fan. It, too, burst into flames, and came crashing to the floor. Once again, it was Thor was screamed like a girl – _not me._

"J-just leave me alone," Blondie snapped, as she continued to back up. She looked scared, but she didn't _sound_ like she was. No, she sounded angry, like she was on the offensive . . .

That was when Thor's _cape_ burst into flames.

He bellowed loudly, enraged as he ripped it off his back and threw it to the floor. As he stomped out the fire, something seemed to click in his head.

"You," he said plainly, his head swiveling up to look at Blondie. "You have lit these things aflame."

"What?" the girl squeaked. "I – I . . ."

"You tried to set me alight!" Thor shouted, angry. He raised his hammer, and I was a moment too late in realizing what he was going to do as he brought it swinging around, straight for the girl's head.

Now, if she had been a _normal_ girl, I'm pretty sure he would've knocked her head clean off her shoulders. But Blondie _wasn't_ entirely normal.

Thor's hammer was about an inch from the side of her head when it stopped moving. I mean, the big god was still holding it, and he was still struggling with it, but it wouldn't move.

A slight breeze whipped around the room. Blondie was crouching on the ground, her hands over her head with her palms face-up as if protecting herself from the hammer . . . or using some invisible force to keep it from colliding with her. I noticed a tattoo on the inside of one of her wrists, but I couldn't see what it was.

"Arghh!" Thor shouted, frustrated. He brought the hammer around once more, but was again stopped by some invisible force. The breeze in the room suddenly intensified as Thor was thrown backwards, into a wall. No one had touched him – he had just . . . flown.

"Are you doing that?" I finally said something of use, looking at the girl. She grimaced, avoiding my gaze and standing up straight.

"Please don't hurt me," she said in a small voice, running a hand through her hair. "Honestly, I – I didn't mean you any harm," she glanced at the charred cape on the ground. "You scared me, and my reaction was to . . . was to attack."

"Attack," I raised my eyebrows, silently demanding an explanation. Thor picked himself up from the ground, looking ready to hammer something again. He called her a name so bad it would've burned by ears clean off . . . if I had actually understood the language he was cursing in. You know - Norse Viking god and all.

It was then that the overhead sprinkler system went off, drenching us and putting out the remaining flames from the ceiling fan and the lamp.

"Um, you guys should probably leave," Blondie shifted uncomfortably, grabbing her thin blue blanket from the bed and holding it over her head. "Before the guy in the trench coat comes and yells at me for destroying another room."

"You mean Nick Fury?" I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know him?"

"I don't," she eyed me suspiciously. "Six days ago, he dragged me into this building without so much as an explanation. I have no idea what I'm doing here," she said honestly, her eyes wide. "He keeps locking me in random rooms, but then I, uh . . ." she smiled sheepishly, "I burn them down."

I thought of the file on "Sam" that JARVIS found. All it said was "unstable and dangerous." Who was this girl Sam, and was she a pyromaniac or something?

"You're coming with me," I demanded, reaching forward and grabbing her wrist. She struggled against me, but I kept an iron grip on her arm and dragged her into the hallway, where the sprinklers weren't going off (heh heh, get it? Iron grip? Cause I'm Iron Man? Oh, never mind).

Thor followed reluctantly, still looking intent on using his stupid hammer – but one glare from me was enough to make him back off. At least, for now.

"Who are you?" I asked the girl as she removed the blanket from her head and tossed it on the floor. "Are you . . . 'Sam'?"

"Why should I tell you?" she retorted.

I rolled my eyes. "Because I'm trying to _help_ you, that's why."

Thor snickered. "Help? _You_?"

I shot him another glare. "Well, technically, I'm helping _myself_ by uncovering Fury's secrets. But let's not get technical, shall we?"

The girl gave us both an odd look, and removed her wrist from my grip. "Yeah, my name's Samantha," she admitted slowly, "but people call me Sam."

We heard loud talking from down the corridor, and she looked up, panicked. "C'mon," I grumbled, "let's go before they catch us. Is it safe to assume you weren't allowed to leave your room?"

Sam nodded, glancing back at me again. I tried to give her a reassuring look, like "I'm here for you" or something, but I'm Tony Stark. I don't do reassuring.

We headed down the hallway at a brisk pace, Thor walking a few feet ahead of us angrily. He was pissed off, that much I could tell – especially because I had stopped him from clobbering the poor girl once he had the chance. Ah, that big oaf needed to learn to control his anger. It's not my fault he harassed her with a Wal-Mart hammer. If I were she, I'd already be filing for assault.

"My name is Tony Stark," I said as we walked, in the general direction of the lab. "I'm also Iron Man."

"I know," Sam huffed. "You're always in the news."

I puffed out my chest like a peacock, feeling proud. Well, I _am_ pretty interesting. Why wouldn't I be on television? "So you actually don't know what you're doing here? How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm seventeen," she answered, ignoring my first question. Suddenly, Sam stopped walking. "Are you kidnapping me? What's going on?"

I turned around to look her in the startling grey eyes. "That's what I'd like to know. Director Fury is a spy – he has secrets. I'm on a mission to uncover those secrets. And you, my dear, are one of them."

"Me," she stated bluntly and disbelievingly.

"You," I responded in just as flat a tone. "Now, I want to know _why_."

She narrowed her eyes at me, as if trying to see right through my face. In response, I gave her a fake smile.

"I'll tell you, depending on who Shakespeare over there is," she nodded at Thor without taking her eyes off me. _Ha_, I knew I wasn't the only one who thought he dressed like some sort of Shakespearean actor.

"That's Thor. He's a fellow superhero of mine," I added the last bit reluctantly. "He's not quite as charming and powerful as I, but he can pack a punch."

That got a reaction out of Sam; she stopped squinting, and instead laughed a bit. "We should keep moving if we don't want Fury to catch us. I'm probably not supposed to know you guys are even in this building, let alone breaking me out of my prison."

"It's not a building," I called after her as she strutted down the hall, "it's a ship. A Helicarrier. And we're not going anywhere until you tell me why you're Fury's special little pet secret."

Sam didn't stop walking, but she did look over her shoulder at me. "I don't know, alright?"

"Lies, all lies," I muttered under my breath as she turned the corner and headed down the hallway to her left. A moment later, she came back, instead going down the hallway to the right. It wasn't long before she returned again, this time putting her hands on her hips and standing in front of me.

"Where am I supposed to be going?" she asked. I had to admit, this girl had nerve. Not many people spoke to me the way she did – as if I knew nothing about her, and I was never going to find anything out. Which, at the moment, was sadly true.

I sighed, prodding her elbow and leading her to the right. Thor had long since ditched us, probably to go pout in a corner somewhere. I think it hurt his ego, not being able to smash Sam's brains in.

We arrived at the lab shortly after. Banner was still in there, working away diligently. He looked up when I entered the room, glancing at Sam in surprise. Nervously, I might add. Nervously he glanced at her in surprise.

"Doctor, this is SamanthabutpeoplecallmeSam. Blondie, this is Doctor Bruce Banner."

"Don't call me Blondie," she grumbled, but shook Banner's hand good-naturedly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Huh, no it's not," Banner sighed. God, that guy was such a downer.

Sam looked so out of place in the lab. Her hair was oily, her face makeup-free, and her clothes rumpled. She was confused and scared, but relieved – probably because she was standing so close to amazing old me. Nah, it was probably because she was glad to get out of that room. But a guy can dream.

"So, you're the highly unstable and dangerous 'Sam' that Fury's been hiding," Banner commented. I felt like slapping him.

"What?" she exclaimed, looking shocked. "I'm not – I . . ."

"What happened back there?" I cut in without preamble. I wasn't one to beat around the bush. "With the fire, and the . . . the Thor?"

She ran a hand through her hair again, and I caught another glimpse of the black tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. "It was nothing, okay?" she snapped.

"You said you were on the offense," I raised my eyebrows.

She looked like she was going to kick me, but kindly refrained from doing so. I grabbed my old package of food and held it out to her. "Blueberry?"

She didn't take the food; instead she stared off, past Banner's head. "I set the lamp on fire," she said slowly. "And the ceiling fan, and the cape. But it was all an accident, I swear."

Obviously, a lot of questions sprung to life in my mouth. The most prominent one was "How?" She hadn't even been near those things when they had burned.

"And how did you block Thor from crushing you?" I asked, ignoring the more obvious questions.

"Wind," she answered simply, switching her gaze to glare at me.

Banner suddenly interrupted, "Fury's coming." He was glancing out of the window, obviously at the Director's approaching figure.

I swore, looking at Sam. Fury would be furious (see what I did there?) if he found out I broke Sam out of her room. Fury's furious fury would be unmatched, even by the Hulk (okay, I'll stop it with the bad puns. Captain's giving me another look). At least, I assumed he'd be mad about my discovery; her practically-empty file had been under a lot of lock-and-key.

"Hide!" I whispered loudly.

Her eyes widened. "What? Why? Where?"

"Under the table," I said, and without waiting for an answer, I practically shoved her under one of the silver metal lab tables. I then popped a blueberry in my mouth and sat on said table, trying to look nonchalant. It was then that the computer screen in front of me beeped: JARVIS had finished hacking S.H.I.E.L.D's files. Something called "Phase 2" was now on the screen.

Director Fury burst into the lab without knocking. How rude. "What are you doing, Mr. Stark?" he demanded without preamble. Uh-oh – he knew I had hacked his precious files.

"Uh, kinda been wondering the same thing about you," I said without missing a beat. _Ha_. Take that, Fury. That was a pretty good comeback, if I may say so myself.

"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract," said the Director.

Good old Brucie then stepped in for me. "We are. The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile," he said, diverting Fury's attention while I quickly scanned through the information JARVIS had pulled up on my screen.

"Yeah, and we'll get your Cube back, no muss, no fuss," I said. Now . . . pause for dramatic effect, and . . . "What _is_ Phase Two?"

After that, things got pretty crazy. But I'll let Freedom Pants tell you all about that. Can you believe he actually has thoughts in that big empty brain of his – thoughts that he wants to share?

Well, this is me signing off (at least until you beg me to come back and write more, because you just can't stand to be away from my wonderful words for too long). _Finally_ I don't have to write this stupid thing anymore. As I've said, it's Cap's turn. So I'm off to fix myself a big tall glass of vodka – so long, suckers!

* * *

**A/N: Heya, guys. Here is the next chapter, and as stated, Captain will have the next POV :) I just want to point out that while Sam may seem pretty void of personality, it'll change. She's got her guard up, and it causes her to act a bit, um, empty. Yeah, I guess we'll go with that word. **

**Explanations about her are coming next chapter (yay!) so hang in there, guys! It's been written already, so it'll hopefully be up in a day or two. By the way, please let me know if you like the length of the chapters – I'm thinking of making them a bit longer. Thoughts? Or is this just fine?**

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I haven't responded to the reviews yet, but I'm planning on doing so tonight :) It really means a lot to me when you press that big sparkly blue button down there, and just let me know about your thoughts. Anonymous reviews **_**are **_**accepted, but please . . . **_**no flames. **_**I would love to hear what you think, though, and if you have any suggestions I'm always open to them! I try to respond to every signed review :)**

**I can't believe I keep forgetting to say this, but . . . I don't own any of the characters (except Sam). They belong to Marvel and the genius mind of Stan Lee. I'm just taking them out and playing with them.**

**As always, thanks to **_**funwriting, AngieLuz, booklover1498, GoForTehGig, **_**and**_** VampireGleek **_**for all your wonderful reviews! They really make my day, and I can't thank you all enough **

_**Readers assemble!**_

**- Lexi**


	4. Every Eye

Steve Rogers' POV

_Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent. - William Shakespeare_

_Trust no agent._ Yeah, I learned that the hard way. And it was hard for Fury's eyes to negotiate for themselves when he only had one.

Anyway . . . Hi. The name's Steven Rogers, but people call me Steve, or Captain. I'm the supersoldier known as Captain America, and yes, I'm the one from World War II. I'm _the_ Captain America. And I've been plopped down in the middle of the 21st century.

I have a lot of things to say, about how difficult it is to adjust to this life. How hard it's been to leave everyone I loved so suddenly, and without a formal goodbye. Things have been tough for me – tougher than they've been for the others, at least. Everyone's always looking up to me; expecting so much from me. As I said to Agent Coulson: "I just hope I'm the man for the job."

And I'm a lot more vulnerable to outside attacks, too. Of the four bigshots in the Avengers – including me – I'm the only one with an actual chance of getting hurt. Thor's immortal; Mr. Stark has his suit of armor; and the Hulk is basically impossible to kill. I'm the only guy who can be shot and wounded – I'm the only one who can really be damaged. And that makes me feel a lot worse than I let on.

Of course, now that Sam's come along, I'm not the only one anymore. But I'm getting to that.

Contrary to Mr. Stark's beliefs, I have a lot to say about all this. But the time will come. For now, I'm just supposed to tell the story.

Where did Mr. Stark leave off again? Oh, right. He was talking about Phase Two. Mr. Stark's an odd man – he likes to read what he's writing out loud while he's writing it. It's infuriating, and it means I've heard every insult he's written down. Yes, I'm thinking of the nickname "Freedom Pants", Stark. I'm not too happy with that one.

I try to be nice to Mr. Stark, honestly. But he makes it so difficult; so glaringly impossible. He acts so egoistic and arrogant; he doesn't appreciate his talents and gifts. And as I told him, he cares more about himself than others. He's selfish. Although he's changed since the events of this story and now . . . he's still pretty selfish and egoistic.

"What _is_ Phase Two?" I heard Mr. Stark ask in the lab, as I stormed down the hall with the HYDRA weapon in my hand. I'll admit it, I was angry that people could still be so obsessed with war, after all these years. That S.H.I.E.L.D was learning from HYDRA, and making weapons with the Tesseract.

"Phase Two is S.H.I.E.L.D. using the Cube to make weapons. Sorry, computer was running a little slow for me," I walked into the lab, slamming the gun down on the table and looking at Mr. Stark pointedly.

"Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract," Fury tried to cover up, but his battle was already lost. "This does not mean that we're-"

Mr. Stark got up and stood by his computer screen, swinging it around so everyone could see the weapon plans.

"I'm sorry, Nick-" he started, even though I could tell he wasn't, "-what were you lying?"

"I was wrong, director," I glared, upset. "The world hasn't changed a bit."

"Oh, and Freedom Pants?" Mr. Stark chimed in, and I raised my eyebrows at him, resenting the nickname already. "That's not all. Fury's also been holding minors against their will."

"What?" I exclaimed, losing composure for a second. This angered me almost as much as the HYDRA weapons – and that was probably why Mr. Stark had said it. If I was there for one thing, it was to protect the general public. And Fury could _not_ be holding minors against their will. That went against everything I stood for. If Mr. Stark was telling the truth, then I wanted out of this stupid organization. Now.

"That's not true," Fury crossed his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at Stark.

"Oh, yeah? Sammy, dear, you can come out now," the billionaire kicked a table none too gently.

"Don't call me Sammy," a female voice grumbled, and to my astonishment, someone crawled out on all fours from underneath the table that Mr. Stark had kicked.

"What's not true, Director?" Mr. Stark asked snidely. "The fact that you locked this minor in a room on the Helicarrier for six days?"

"Actually, it was _five_ rooms," Fury's gaze made my blood run cold, even though it was directed at Mr. Stark. "She kept lighting the walls and her furniture on fire." The girl who had crawled out from under the table snickered, standing up.

"Is that true?" I asked, not able to keep the disgust out of my voice. I wasn't speaking of the jab about fire – I was speaking of the fact that Fury might've locked a young girl on the Helicarrier. I looked over her – surely she couldn't even be out of high school yet – quickly. She had long, disheveled blonde hair with grown-out bangs, so that her hair framed her oval face in curtains. She was staring at me curiously and unabashedly with storm grey eyes, her full lips parted slightly. She had a straight nose and pale, smooth skin, with rather red cheeks, as if all the blood had just rushed to her head. Her whole appearance was unkempt and disheveled – but not as if she had neglected it. No, it was more like she had actually been locked in a room – or five – for a few days.

"She was a threat to the general population and needed to be removed from the public," Fury said simply, wandering around the room with his hands behind his back.

"I'm a threat?" she blurted out, looking a bit cross.

"You obliterated a-"

"I know what I did!" she burst in quickly, as if she didn't want Fury to say it out loud. "But I told you, it was an accident-"

"You're still an unstable threat."

"But I-"

Thor and Agent Romanoff walked into the room, both looking tense. They could sense that a fight was brewing.

"What I'd like to know," Dr. Banner interrupted, "is why S.H.I.E.L.D is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction," he pointed to Stark's screen.

There was a long pause in the room, before Fury spoke: "Because of him," he nodded at Thor.

"Me?" the large man asked in surprise.

"Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge mass that levelled a small town," Fury started. "We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously out-gunned."

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet," Thor said in his deep voice.

"But you're not the only people out there, are you? And, you're not the only threat," Fury was working himself up into a froth. "The world's filling up with people who can't be matched. They can't be controlled." At this, I noticed him looking pointedly at the young girl in the room.

"I want to know why you've been holding a minor against her will," I cut in, bringing the conversation back around. "Is she one of these 'uncontrollable' threats you've been talking about? Because I don't see how someone so young-"

"Actually yes, Rogers. She is. Samantha Eleanor Silverman recently acquired superpowers that she has not yet learned to control," he nodded at the girl, who looked like she wanted to melt into the ground and disappear. "She recently destroyed a-"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have any right to pick me up and lock me in here," she snapped, cutting in quickly.

"We're trying to stop another disaster from happening," Fury responded heatedly.

"So you're isolating her to protect others? Like you wanted to isolate me?" Banner raised his eyebrows, challenging the director.

Fury just sighed, turning to Mr. Stark. "You probably think you're awfully clever for finding Miss Silverman, but in truth, I was going to introduce you all to her today. Especially you," he pointed at me.

"Me?" I asked, in the same fashion Thor had a moment ago.

"Not only is Silverman unstable, she's dangerous. And that could be very useful some day," he said in that mysterious way of his. "I want you to train her, Rogers, to teach her how to control her powers."

"But he's freaking _Captain America_! He has nothing to _do_ with my powers!" Miss Silverman shouted, and one of the computer screens randomly burst into flame. I sprung into action, grabbing a fire extinguisher and putting out the fire. "He's a supersoldier, and I'm a – I'm a –" she glanced between the screen and the fire extinguisher in my hand.

"An elemental controller," Fury responded calmly. "Miss Silverman has already learned to harness the power of wind. But as you can see," he gestured at the screen, "she has yet to figure out how to set things on fire properly."

"Hey, it's just my aim that's bad," she grumbled, looking down. "I can control the fire, just . . . not my aim."

"Then what were you going for just now?" I asked, genuinely curious.

She looked ashamed. "Um, Director Fury's belt. I figured it would scare him, but not harm him. Although now that I think about it . . . it probably would've done some heavy damage."

"So you just . . . set things on fire? By thinking about them?" I asked, a bit confused, and she nodded.

"But with wind, I actually have to use hand movements. Like the Force." I stared at her blankly. "You know, Star Wars." I looked around at the others in confusion, still not getting it (oh, and for the record, I _still _don't understand. No one ever bothers to explain anything to me).

"Wait, that's only two elements," Agent Romanoff pointed out. "What about . . . water? And earth?"

Miss Silverman cracked her knuckles. "Earth is . . . well, I think I might be able to control it. I haven't tried since . . . well, I don't really _want_ to try," she said, purposefully neglecting to elaborate on what she could do with it, "but water . . . well, I don't know. I don't think I can control water or _anything_. Maybe I just can't manipulate that element."

"The point is," Fury interrupted, "I believe she could make a handy ally. Just so long as she can learn to control her . . . impulses."

The young blonde crossed her arms over her chest, glancing between me and Fury. "Do you actually want _him_ to train me?" she asked, skeptically.

"Or Stark," Fury responded lightly.

"I thought I was here to help find the Tesseract, not babysit misbehaving children," I snapped, at the same time as Mr. Stark said "Yeah, I'm not here to play daddy. Captain can do it."

Fury sighed. "I knew that both of you would have reactions like that. But as I said, there are people in this world who can't be contained. Silverman is one of them. And you boys might be able to help, so there's one less person to control."

"Like you controlled the Cube?" I couldn't help but say.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it," Thor couldn't stand to be away from the conversation for long, "and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war."

"A higher form?" I asked, my mind panicking as I thought of my time as a soldier.

"You forced our hand," Fury's gaze flickered between the gun on the table and Miss Silverman. "We had to come up with something."

"A nuclear deterrent, 'cause that always calms everything right down," Mr. Stark snapped. I'll admit it; I had found his silence up until this point to be disconcerting. Wasn't he the guy who always wanted to be heard?

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?" Fury asked, pointedly.

I chimed in, "I'm sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck-deep-"

"Wait, wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?" he turned towards me menacingly.

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?" I retorted.

"I thought humans were more evolved than this," Thor unjustly commented.

"Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Fury's voice became annoyed.

Everyone then started talking over each other and arguing, pointing fingers and placing blame. We were behaving by children, and although I'm ashamed to admit it, I was taking part in it.

"Are you boys really that naïve?" Agent Romanoff went on, as Mr. Stark started yelling at me about something-or-other. I heard the Doctor say my name, but was too distracted by Mr. Stark to pay attention.

"You know, just because I'm a 'threat' who needs to be 'trained' does _not_ mean I want to be here," Miss Silverman shouted over everyone, as the precious package of blueberries in Stark's hand caught fire. When that caught no one's attention, Silverman swung out her palm and held it facing one of the computer screens. The screen went flying off its pedestal and crashed into the wall, sparks flying as a gentle breeze lifted around the rest of the room.

That shut everyone up, and on impulse, we all turned towards Miss Silverman. She didn't look the slightest bit guilty; instead, she stared back at us defiantly.

"Will that be all?" she snapped. "Can I go now?" No one said anything, and she lowered her hand. The young girl sighed, deflating a little bit. "So. Umm . . . when and where does this magical training of mine start?" she asked, a bit sarcastically – and then she turned and walked out of the room.

We were all left with our mouths gaping open. "Did she just-" Mr. Stark was the first to speak, "Did she just – ask a question, and then walk out without waiting for an answer?"

Once again, no one said anything.

Mr. Stark's face broke into a grin. "My kinda girl," was all he said, nodding, before walking out of the room after her.

Obviously, things were getting pretty weird. And for once, I had no idea what to do about it.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so, this chapter was basically a bunch of arguing XD But it needed to be done. The next chapter is quite interesting, I promise you :P**

**Just in case you haven't figured it out yet, this story is a bit AU - and I mean in the sense that Clint Barton/Hawkeye hasn't launched his attack on the Helicarrier yet. That'll still be in the story, but it'll come in later. **

**I also realized that so long as I'm (attempting to) stick close to the movie plot, it'll be hard for there to be character development. Steve didn't really change in the movie now, did he? And although Tony did, it doesn't have anything to do with the way _I _want to change him. Since the movie was mostly action, it'll be hard to change the characters. Soooo, in the sequel that has already been planned, there will be wayyyyy more character development and all that jazz. Steve will change, Tony will change (again), and all the others will change. I just need more room to be able to do it - and obviously, if it's my own original stuff, I'll have enough room ;) I hope you guys stick around for the sequel - I've got big things planned . . . more _exciting_ things. You guys have no idea what you're in for once we get there ;)**

**I don't own any of these characters (except Sam), sadly enough. I just like to take them out and play with them ^_^**

**I like to respond to every signed review I get, so I can show you guys just how much it means to me when you review! Seriously, please just hit that big pretty blue button down below and leave a comment. It'll make my day - I start smiling like an idiot when I hear what you guys think. Comments, suggestions, anything. Anonymous reviews _are _accepted, but please . . . _no flames._**

**Thanks so, so much to my reviewers from last time: _ILoveReadingAndWriting, LaughingLadybug, booklover1498, A Contradiction, TeddyBearSunshineJoy54 _and _Little Weasley Girl!_ You guys make my day. But seriously, this story has been getting a _lot_ of alerts, but not so many reviews. I'd really appreciate it if you all left a comment, telling me what you think :) **

**Well, until next time . . . _readers assemble!_**

**_- _Lexi**


	5. Footprints

Sam Silverman's POV

_Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts._ _And we are never, ever the same. - Unknown_

So, um . . . Hi.

Looks like I have the journal now. I guess I have to write the next part, huh? But first, can I formally introduce myself?

The name's Samantha Silverman, but people call me Sam. I'm from Chicago, Illinois, but recently I've been picked up and dropped back here in the middle of this stupid ship – against my will, I might add. But Tony's already told you that.

Back in those first frightful hours after meeting everyone, Tony was the only person who I really wanted to stand near. I know it sounds strange, especially because he probably wanted nothing to do with me, but he was the only one I came close to trusting. I mean, who else was there? The only people I had really been introduced to were Tony, Director Fury (who had brought me here in the first place; I wasn't going to trust _him_), Thor (who had tried to bash my brains in), and Captain America (who seemed to have an immediate dislike for me). Tony was the one who had let me out of my room; he was the one who actually attempted to understand who I was. And I appreciated that a lot more than I could say.

So I was glad when it was Tony who came jogging after me in the hall. I didn't know where I was going, after all, and it was nice to see the only person I potentially trusted.

God, I sound like such a downer. As if everything's dark and gruesome and life sucks (which it does). And you don't know anything about me. I guess I should write something here, like "I love ponies and unicorns and puking up rainbows", but then you wouldn't get to know the _real_ me. So you're just going to have to read . . . and watch. It's like in a book – you don't get to know the character by having them specifically tell you their personality traits. You get to know them by watching their actions, and watching them grow.

Tony didn't say anything; just fell into silent step beside me. The silence wasn't awkward, but I didn't like it, either. I could see him analyzing me (and not being secretive about it), as if I was a chemical formula. I shot a glare back, and he grinned.

"Say, you wanna go for a ride?" he asked as he steered me down a different hallway. I immediately thought of all the sexual things that could mean – hey, I'm still a senior in high school, okay? So shoot me if I haven't grown out of that stage yet.

"Like, with me in my Iron Man suit," he added on.

"Why would I do that?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know why he thought I would go with him.

Tony shrugged. "Why not?"

The term YOLO sprung to my head, like any typical teenager, but I shook it out quickly. God, I hated that saying with every fibre of my being.

"No, but really," Tony continued, "it'd be fun. It could count as part of this dumb 'training' thing the director seems to want you to take part in."

I sighed. "Yeah, fine. Whatever. If it makes Fury happy, and keeps him from locking me up again."

Tony grinned, and we arrived in a chamber with a huge metal contraption in it. "Wait in the hanger while I suit up," he said, pressing a button on a tablet he had pulled out of his pocket. The metal contraption started to move, as I realized that even if I had refused to go on a "ride", he still would've dragged me along.

I walked towards the hanger, fingering the hem of my grey long-sleeved shirt. I was completely and utterly confused as to what was going to happen next – and not just when I was "going for a ride" with Tony.

Fury still wasn't telling me something. His comment about being a good "ally" had meant more than he had let on. The Captain had said "I thought I was here to help find the Tesseract, not babysit misbehaving children", and that made me think. I knew there was some sort of crisis going on (although I didn't know _what_ – for all I knew, the Tesseract could be Fury's secret love child or something), so why were they bringing me in _now_? Why were they putting the push on training _now_, while there seemed to be more important things going on?

Just then, a formidable sight came round the corner. It looked like a robot, with gold and red plating and glowing eyes, but I knew it to be Iron Man – Tony Stark.

"So you really are the Iron Knight," I said, impressed.

"Of course," I heard his voice, although nothing on his face mask moved. "No one else is fabulous enough to wear this suit." I couldn't help but laugh as he struck a pose.

Tony hit the button to open the hanger door, and threw me a face mask. We were in such thin air up here that I unfortunately had to wear one while we were outside. Grumbling, I tied my hair up into a long blonde ponytail, to keep it off my face.

"What's that?" Tony – Iron Man – asked, pointing at my wrist as I put my hair up. I pulled my hand away, glancing at what I already knew he was staring at: the tattoo on the inside of my left wrist.

I shrugged, holding it out to show him. "It's a tattoo," I pointed out dully. It wasn't like it was anything interesting - just one word, inscribed on my skin in cursive writing.

"'Masquerade'," Tony read. "Why?"

I sighed, strapping my face mask on. "Because life's a masquerade, isn't it? People go around pretending to be something they're not; we all wear masks, covering up who we really are. This-" I tapped the tattoo "-is my way of reminding myself to _forget_ the mask. To be who I want to be, not who _others_ want me to be."

"Sounds cheesy," he responded in a flat tone, and I laughed.

"Yeah, it is," I smiled. "But I got the tattoo illegally, since I'm underage – so I'm not going to risk going back to take it _off_ illegally."

Tony chuckled, and then stepped forward to pick me up. My nerves jangled as he wrapped his arms around my torso, lifting me up so that my head was looking over his but my body was still pressed to his suit.

Without warning, he blasted off. I screamed at the sudden movement, clutching onto his helmet for dear life. I'll be honest – I was terrified. Why the hell had I agreed to this?

"I can't – see –" Tony grumbled through the mask, and I slowly loosened my death grip on his head as we sped away from the giant-ass ship I was being held captive on. The sight of the giant floating fortress was enough to make me forget my fear of falling – besides, Tony had a pretty strong grip on me. I realized with a shock that I already trusted him enough to believe he wouldn't accidentally let me go.

The ship was a huge grey thing that slightly resembled a flat, flying battleship. I couldn't believe the thing was actually _flying_ - it would've seemed more likely for it to be a sub, but noooo. S.H.I.E.L.D just _had_ to outdo themselves and make the damn thing _fly_.

"It's a Helicarrier," Tony narrarated, when he noticed me staring at it. "S.H.I.E.L.D's main base of operation."

"Oh," I said blankly, still staring. But then I shook my head, letting my thoughts fly away in the breeze. "So, uh, why'd you bring me up here?" I yelled over the wind, through my mask. "I mean, how exactly am I supposed to 'train'-"

And then the bastard dropped me.

My mind was so seized with fear that I thought I couldn't scream. But I did, and what a shriek it was: terrified and horror-struck and all those goodies as I hurtled towards the ground, 30,000 feet below. I was flailing, twisting, and screaming in absolute terror. As I writhed through the air, I caught a glimpse of Iron Man hovering above me. He wasn't doing anything; just watching. But at the time, I was so fear-filled that I couldn't even realize what was going on.

You know that feeling you get when you're on a roller coaster? Like, your heart is being squeezed and you have to shut your eyes, lest the wind tear them out and make them water? And _especially _the feeling of screaming, but being so scared you have no breath? As if you can't get any noise out, and yet, you're still shrieking? That's what it felt like, except so much worse. I couldn't get a hold of myself; couldn't try and think things through rationally. So that's why it came as such a shock to me when I suddenly collided with something hard – and yet, that something was nothing.

With a breathless "oof", I landed on what felt like the ground. But it wasn't; I was still high above the earth, and I could see straight past my feet. My panicked subconscious had conjured up a wall of wind, if you will, preventing me from falling any further.

I stood on it, the air whistling past my ears loudly as my breath came in short, shallow gasps. This was insane. How the hell had I managed to do this? This – this wind thing? I mean, duh, I knew I could control wind, but-

And then it disappeared from beneath my feet as my attention wavered, and I was falling again, falling and screaming. This time, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't conjure up more wind as I flipped head-over-heels.

My "superpower" was a funny thing. I guess Fury had the right idea: I was an elemental controller. I could light things on fire with a single thought, although even though I might _think _"set the t-shirt aflame", it always ended up being the pants that spontaneously combusted. Still, I guess it was an offensive superpower all the same.

Wind was easy enough – I could control _that_. It was like using the Force, from Star Wars. I would thrust my hand out, and then something ten feet away would fall over with a gust of wind. Fury had been wrong when he said I had burned down four of my rooms - I had smashed my bed through the wall of one of them, using wind.

But that was the only element I could control. Earth . . . I didn't like thinking about what I could do with earth. It caused too much untameable destruction. And as I told the ginger woman back in the lab, I had absolutely no idea about water. So far, nothing had happened with it. I couldn't conjure it out of thin air, or manipulate a river, or anything. I had just accepted that I couldn't control it.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Falling to my imminent doom because bloody Iron freaking Man had "dropped" me. I wish I could say my life flashed before my eyes, but it didn't. Besides, I had my eyes squeezed shut against the wind, so they didn't water (and I couldn't see the ground coming closer and closer).

I registered the sound of Iron Man's suit before he collided with me, grabbing me around the waist and stopping my fall. Well, it certainly took him long enough.

I was still screaming as Tony draped me over his back like a sack of potatoes, putting on his foot boosters and flying back up into the sky. It only took a moment for my screams to turn into cries for help: "Put me down! Put me down, put me down, put me down, or so-help-me-god-I-will-shoot-you-in-the-face! Put me down _right now!"_

"You want me to put you down again?" Tony's voice came through the golden mask, and I felt his grip on me loosen once more.

I shrieked. "No, no, _no_! Pick me up, pick me _up_!" He chuckled, although I didn't understand what was so damn funny about the whole thing. At least this time, though, he sped towards the open hanger of the Helicarrier as I clung onto the plates of his armor for dear life.

He flew right into the inside of the Helicarrier, landing on the floor gently. Tony tried to shake me off him, or dump me on the floor, but I had been so scared that now my muscles were locked. I was clenched up tight, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't release my stiff fingers from their grasp on his armor. I was shaking, both inside and out, as my heart battered in my ribcage and my breath came quickly.

Tony, who still couldn't release my death grip on him, instead ripped off my face mask as he closed the hanger door. Although it made it easier to breathe, my muscles were still locked, and I was still a trembling mess.

An outside force then came and tugged on me. It wasn't hard enough to unclench my muscles, but it was enough to pry me away as Captain America, of all people, pulled me away from Tony. I collapsed in the soldier's arms, unable to stand fully straight as I took large, gasping breaths.

"You went too far this time, Stark," I heard the Captain say over the blood rushing in my ears. "I watched the whole thing."

"Did you enjoy the show?" Tony asked innocently, taking off his Iron Man helmet.

"You jeopardized her safety!" Captain retorted, standing stiff as a board as I clung to him, chest heaving.

"I was just having a bit of fun. Besides, I was testing her; I wanted to see what she would do," Tony shot back.

"You could have killed her! And then what would Fury have said?" Captain snapped. "Just stay away from anything that walks, Stark."

"Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me." Uh oh. I could already tell this was going to end badly.

"Yeah. Big man in a suit of armor," the Captain started. He gently lowered me to the floor, and I lay down on my back, staring at the ceiling blankly as my breathing slowed. "Take that off, what are you?"

Tony didn't even miss a beat. "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist."

I couldn't see the Captain's expression, but I knew it wasn't a pleasant one. "I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

"I think I would just cut the wire," Tony replied matter-of-factly.

"Always a way out. You know, you may not be a threat, but you'd better stop pretending to be a hero."

"A hero, like you? You're a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything _special_ about _you_ came out of a bottle." That made me grimace – my origins weren't much different. But at least I didn't go around in a supersuit. As a matter of fact, I would rather do _anything_ than become a superhero like these two.

"Well, Stark, you've already got the suit on. Let's go a few rounds," Steve challenged.

"I'm not afraid to hit an old man."

I could sense they were both itching for a fight – and that was a very bad thing. Captain America vs. Iron Man? I mean, sure, it'd be epic, but the world would probably end up exploding or something.

I sat up and stared at them – they were glaring daggers at each other, their muscles tense. "Girls, girls, you're both pretty. Can I go now?" I interrupted.

It wasn't enough to make them laugh, but it was enough to distract them. Both men looked down at me sitting there on the floor, frazzled. I guess something in my expression had appealed to Captain, because he reached down and helped me up, like any gentleman.

"Stark, you can stay here while I find a new room for Miss Silverman," Captain glared at Tony.

"Uh, you can call me Sam," I said at the same time as Tony responded coolly with a "I'm not taking orders from _you_. Besides, why do _you_ get to escort her?"

"Because you _dropped_ her!"

"Does it count as dropping if I did it on purpose?"

"That's even worse!"

You know, it would've been any girl's dream to have Captain America and Iron Man fight over her. But the thing was . . . they _weren't_ fighting over me. They were fighting with each other, and I just so happened to be the object caught in the middle.

I stared hard at the Iron Man helmet in Tony's hands, willing it to burst into flame. My vision narrowed, and I heard a familiar _whoosh_ing sound in my ears as everything darkened - but then the tire of an airplane parked in the hanger lit on fire. Not the helmet. God, Fury was right – I needed to work on my aim. But how the _hell _was I supposed to do that? It seemed as if the only thing I could do to help would be to practice.

"Does anyone know if there are any showers around here?" I asked the two superidiots, before walking off, back in the direction of the lab. Captain's footsteps followed a few moments later, as did Tony's voice.

"Did she actually just ask another question, and then walk off without waiting for an answer _again_?" he sounded astounded.

I now realize that he's never gotten an answer to his question. But I'm sorry, okay? It's a bad habit.

At least I stopped the brewing fight between Captain America and Iron Man.

For now.

* * *

**A/N: Hey there guys! I don't really have much to say today, so I'll keep it short. I don't own anything or anyone besides Sam (who had her first POV today! Yay!). Thanks to everyone for all the favorites and alerts - I'm glad you're reading my story! Although it'd be nice if you reviewed, too :3**

**Thanks to everyone who _has _been reviewing: _A Contradiction, AngieLuz, LaughingLadybug, Casey_****_Grey, Little Weasley Girl, ILoveReadingAndWriting, booklover1498, _and _TheMostRandomOfRandomWriters ._ Your words mean a lot to me; it keeps me going. Thank you all so, so much for your kind words - honestly, the response I'm gettting on this story is so much more than I would've imagined! So thank you for that :)**

**I respond to every signed review I get, because I like to thank you guys for all your support. Anonymous reviews _are _accepted, but please . . . _no flames. _I'd love to hear what you think of Sam or the storyline so far, and if you have any questions - just ask! Sometimes readers come up with questions that the author had never even thought of answering :) **

**Um, yeah. So, anyway . . . thanks for reading, guys! I'd really appreciate it if you left a review or comment - it'll only take five seconds, and all you have to do is click that pretty blue button down there. Thanks so much guys, and as always . . . READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Lexi Blaze**


	6. Dramatic Situations

Steve Rogers' POV

_A good many dramatic situations begin with screaming. - Jane Fonda_

She was a feisty one, I'll give you that. I hardly knew anything about her, and yet, she was awfully clever.

As I followed her down the hall (shooting a nasty look back at Tony on the way), I marveled at how Sam acted as if she was on the same level as us. I didn't know if it was arrogance or just courage - I still don't know. But in the end, does it really matter?

I wasn't surprised by my actions – I was trying to do my duty and help Fury. But I _was_ surprised by Stark's actions. He had taking her "flying" without anyone telling him to; he was actually _trying_ to watch over her. And although he was doing a bad job of it, I had to respect him. Maybe the young girl could melt his iron heart.

But probably not. I couldn't get my hopes up.

"Miss," I quickened my pace so that I could walk beside the blonde.

"Please, call me Sam," she said without looking at me.

"Miss Sam," I tried again.

"No, just Sam," she sighed, her shoulders sagging. "What do you want me to call _you_?"

"Uh," I stopped. No one here had asked me that before; everyone just knew who I was, and assumed it was okay to call me "Captain" or "Rogers". But you know what? It would be nice to be called by my real name for once.

"Call me Steve," I said, jumping to keep up with Miss Silv- Sam. "And when I'm wearing my suit with my helmet on, call me Captain. Or Cap," I decided.

"Okay, Steve," she pursed her lips.

"So, uh, Sam," I said awkwardly, "Fury wants me to help . . . train you."

"Are you going to drop me in the middle of nowhere, like Tony?"

"No! Of course not! I don't even know what I'm supposed to do," I shrugged. "I don't know what it's like to have your powers. I honestly don't think I'll be much help."

A grin formed on her face. "Okay, this is kind of random, but you're actually a pretty nice guy when you're not around Tony." I didn't say anything, so she changed the subject. "Can I please just have a shower first?"

"Why not have one after I _attempt _to help you? That way you won't be clean, and then sweaty again."

"But I'm a dirty girl, Steve," she glancing up at me, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "I need a shower." I gulped, understanding what she was implying.

The smile dropped off Sam's face. "I'm just joking. Jeez," she muttered, smacking me on the arm. "Where do we train?"

"I think there's a room on the lower level."

"To the basement it is then!"

I'll admit it; I smiled at her false energy. She could be quite charming, in a way. Sam was a lot like Tony, but less . . . egoistic and, as far as I was aware, selfish. She was just really sarcastic; everything she said, she said it with a straight face.

"Um," she nervously started as we descended a staircase, "I have a question. But you don't have to answer it if you don't want to," she added quickly.

"What is it?" I couldn't keep the curiosity out of my voice.

"Are you the original Captain America? The one that first made an appearance in World War II?"

I sighed. I should've known this was coming. "Yeah," I said softly. "I was suspended in animation for seventy years-" she gave me a look "-I was frozen. As Stark said, I was a Capsicle. They found me in the ice recently."

"Oh," she said, and it was then that I realized she was looking at me in a fangirl sort of way. You know, with the "I'm so honored to be in your presence and so awed and happy that you're alive" expression.

"What?" I asked, uncomfortable with her gaze as we stepped off the staircase and started walking down a hall.

"Sorry," she mumbled guiltily. "I just can't believe it's actually _you_." Oh, God. Please don't tell me she had trading cards like Agent Coulson. I liked the guy and all, and I didn't mind it, but I was rather awkward around people like that. I wasn't expecting fans when I first became a superhero.

"Let me explain," she added when she noticed my uncomfortable expression. "At school – I'm in grade 12 at high school – I took a lot of history courses. I . . . kind of want to be an archaeologist when I get older," she blushed. "I want to major in Roman archaeology, and the study of ancient Roman art and architecture. But I'd have to move to Rome in order to do that," she sighed, "and it's awfully expensive. I can't afford it, so . . . ugh, I'm sorry," Sam shook her head. "I go off like that a lot.

"The point is, for my final project at school, I had to write a really long-ass essay. I decided that if I couldn't study ancient Rome, I'd do, well, World War II," she avoided my gaze. "I know they're too completely different things, but the only things that interest me as a potential history student are the World Wars, and ancient European history. Since I don't exactly live in Greece or Rome or anything . . ." she trailed off. "Sorry! I'm rambling again. I just wanted to say that for my final project, I wrote a piece on whether or not the allies would have won the war, had you not been there in the beginning," she blushed a dark red.

I had to admit that despite the girl's ramblings, I was flattered. "What was your conclusion?"

She let her hair fall in front of her face, hiding her expression. "That we would've lost without you," she said softly.

Yes, I was touched. I'm sure that as soon as Tony reads this he'll make fun of me for it, but honestly? What Sam said meant a lot to me. It was a nice sentiment. And I know for certain that it made me warm up to her.

We arrived in Fury's 'training room', which was basically the target practice range for the S.H.I.E.L.D agents. I looked around at the room dejectedly, noting the lack of, well, anything. Sam was still hiding shyly from me, standing a few feet away.

"You know," I started, a thought forming in my brain (yes, Tony, I have a brain), "it's kind of hard for me to help you with 'target practice'. But if you're going to fight alongside us or S.H.I.E.L.D . . . you're going to have to know some hand-to-hand combat moves."

The look of utter disbelief that crossed her face was so funny I actually laughed out loud. I hadn't laughed in a while; it felt nice.

Sam and I literally spent the next three hours going over basic karate, wrestling, and plain old combat moves in general. She was far from a natural – she kept messing up and forgetting to block blows, or falling over her own feet – but eventually she got the hang of it. The stuff we were going over was basic, but it was substantial enough to keep her alive in a fight (for a while, at least). She was quick, thin and lithe, which certainly helped.

We stopped after three hours to grab a drink and a snack (blueberries, of course – they seemed to be the only snack food on the Helicarrier). Afterwards, Sam and I turned to something more dangerous – guns.

I had never had problems with guns – I was a super soldier. They had come naturally to me. So it was hard to appreciate how much difficulty Sam was having with the .66 Caliber I gave her. No matter how hard she tried or how long it took her to set up, she just couldn't hit her target. She almost shot my foot – twice.

I handed her a rifle next (not that she was going to use one in a fight), and with that, she was a natural. Even _I_ was astounded with how easily she could hit the center of the target. She revealed to me that it was because her younger brother had a BB gun rifle, and she had taken it out and fooled around with it every now and then. She did hold the gun incorrectly, though – pressed between her shoulder and her cheek. It left dark bruise marks along her cheekbone, but she told me it didn't hurt.

"You have a brother?" I remarked as we sat down for another break. She nodded, avoiding my gaze.

"Yeah, his name's Luke," was all she said. Her expression was sad. "I really miss him."

"Can he control the elements too?" She shook her head. "Then . . . your powers aren't genetic?" She shook her head again. "So how'd you come by them?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. "It's a . . . long story."

"I've got time."

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" she reinforced, looking annoyed. I shut up, mainly because I was astounded she hadn't snapped at me in an angrier tone, like she had done before.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, though. We had spent the last five hours training – and talking. Being a history buff, she had wanted to hear everything I had to say about my life in the forties and thirties. I was just glad someone finally wanted to listen. Most people treated me like a museum relic, but Sam acted as if I was just a normal person with more experience than most. And in turn, I listened to all her ramblings about everything, from the times she had shoplifted in grade 10 to her lack of water control, and from her plan for a zombie apocalypse (head to the country) to her favorite Disney princess (Rapunzel).

It had started out as a mission I had accepted from Fury, but now, I was genuinely enjoying the time I was spending with her. We were quickly becoming friends – and I was happy with that. Sam was an ear that would listen and give me a rational answer to whatever question I had, no matter how harsh the response was. She didn't like beating around the bush, either: If she didn't like something, she would flat out tell me "No". I couldn't help but admire that she didn't let emotion get in the way of her decisions – she just tried to do the right thing. And although she wasn't always right, it was the effort that counted.

After our second snack, I felt comfortable enough to try and assist her with her fire problem. At first, we aimed at the gun targets, trying to set those on fire. But after a half an hour, she hadn't hit a single target she was aiming for. Sure, she had hit targets – but never the right ones.

Frustrated, she flung her hand out, using her wind power to blast away the flames of the latest victim to her attack. An idea struck me as I watched, the heat of the flames being cooled by the breeze now in the air.

"Why not hold your hand out and aim when you're trying to use fire? Like with wind?" I asked.

She looked at me with an astonished expression on her face, and then stomped her foot. "I can't _believe_ we haven't thought of that before!" she yelled in anger. Flinging her hand out Iron Man style, she aimed for the centre target.

And although she missed, she still got closer than she ever had before.

Another hour, and it was done – Sam could finally control fire as well as wind. Sure, she had slip-ups, but at least now she was hitting everything she was aiming for. Her expression was so relieved that I reached out and wrapped her in an embrace, hugging her to my chest.

It was then that Tony Stark walked in. "Why, aren't you two lovebirds getting cozy," he snickered, and I let go of Sam so I could glare at him. He was out of his Iron Man suit and was now wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt – whatever that was. It sounded like some sort of dog.

"Freedom Pants! You're looking spiffy, as always," Stark mocked-bowed to me. "But Sammy, dear -"

"Don't call me Sammy."

"Sammy, you look like a wreck."

For the first time all night, I finally took in Sam's appearance. Her hair – which had been pulled into a ponytail – was flying everywhere, and the sweat was absolutely pouring down her face. She looked pale, and her grey shirt was dark with sweat. She had a few noticeable bruises on her arms and neck (I hadn't meant to hit her _that_ hard when we were training in hand-to-hand combat), and her cheek was swelling up from where she had held the rifle. Still, she glowed from the inside, proud that she had accomplished so much.

I was proud, too, but for different reasons: That I could help, that we had become friends, and that I had done so much more than Tony. Yes, even I get vain like that sometimes.

"Fury's already got a nice room all prepared for you," Tony smiled sarcastically. "I made sure you actually had a real blanket in it this time."

"Thanks," she smiled weakly, wavering a bit where she was standing. Sam looked ready to topple over from exhaustion, so I put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She leaned into me gratefully, resting her head against my chest as she yawned.

"Is there a shower in my room?" she asked eagerly, closing her eyes to rest for a few seconds.

"Yep," Tony responded. "I actually came in here to get you because one, your shower is already running; two, the cook has made dinner as is eagerly awaiting someone who actually _wants_ to eat his gruel; and three, there's a meeting at eight in the morning that both of you are supposed to attend. Basically, you need to get to bed now if you don't want to fall asleep during the meeting."

"Roger that," Sam straightened up, opening her eyes. "We've been practicing for what, six hours?"

"Six and a half," I answered formally, as the three of us started to walk back upstairs.

"Ugh, I'm so tired," she ran a hand over her face. I noticed something on the inside of her wrist then; a tattoo. It said "Masquerade", but I didn't comment. The girl deserved at least a bit of privacy.

"Yeah, but the pain now will be worth it in the future, if it means it can save your life."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. You're right. It's just that . . ." she stopped at the top of the staircase with her hand on the railing. "I don't want to be a superhero. I didn't pick this; not like you guys," she looked down. "They're forcing me into this, and I'm afraid that when the time comes, all I'll be able to do is stand there and scream."

Stark and I exchanged a glance. "There's no way you can really prepare for that," he said. "You've just got to trust your instincts. Believe that when the time _does_ come, you'll do the right thing. And even if you don't do anything, at least you were there. At least you _wanted_ to help," Stark shrugged.

"Deep words for a shallow man," I said, and he gave me a look . . . "But Stark's got a good point," I reluctantly admitted. "You've got to trust your instincts. Because that's all we've really got, isn't it? Not the armor or the super soldier serum. That stuff won't last. But our instincts . . ."

She smiled tiredly at both of us. "Thanks, guys. I really mean it," we continued walking. "And thanks for giving up your other duties to spend time with me, Steve."

I smiled, about to say 'no problem', but Tony cut in. "You guys are on a first name basis?" he sounded genuinely shocked, but with Tony, you never knew if it was real. "I thoughts Rogers demanded everyone called him 'Captain'?"

"That's what everyone _assumes_," I shrugged. "But really? I'd just like to be called Steve."

We lead Sam to the room she was staying in and said our goodbyes as Tony retreated into his room (which was strategically placed right across from hers, while mine was on the other side of the Helicarrier). Just before he left, though, I put my hand on his shoulder.

"How's the search for the Tesseract going?" I asked in a tone that was gentler than he deserved.

"Fine," he said briskly, straightening up. "We should have the location in a few hours. Maybe even a few minutes. It's nearing midnight right now, but I guarantee we'll have it by eight in the morning. These things take time – not that your puny mind would know that," he added as an afterthought, and then slammed the door in my face.

I sighed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, wonderful readers! I'm going to keep this short, because my cat is sitting on my lap and making it hard to type. Thank you so, so much to everyone who has alerted, favorited and reviewed! I've gotten an overwhelming amount of alerts - more than I expected - and I'd really appreciate it if you guys reviewed :P **

**Thanks to everyone who _has _been reviewing: _Cresta83, ILoveReadingAndWriting, funwriting, itwontletmechooseaname, PeterFlan, booklover1498, Little Weasley Girl, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross _and _LaughingLadybug. _Thank you all so, so much for reviewing! It really means a lot to me, to hear what you think. I hope you'll continue to read and review - I have big things in store! I love hearing what you think (especially when you guys keep picking up on all the little Sam/Steve moments xD)**

**I respond to every signed review I get, because I like to thank you guys for all your support. Anonymous reviews _are _accepted, but please . . . _no flames. _Please leave a review, telling me what you think of the story and Sam! I really want to hear everyone's thoughts.**

**Ugh, I should shut up about reviewing xD I'm just really pleased with the response this story has gotten so far! Once again, thank you all so, so much, and as always . . . READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Lexi Blaze**


	7. The Brave Man

Sam Silverman's POV

_The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear. - Nelson Mandela_

WHOO! I've got the journal back. I'm actually starting to enjoy this writing thing.

Hmm, so, where to start? I woke up the next morning, feeling . . . exhausted. Like, seriously – every muscle in my body was aching painfully. And my bones were hurting, too. _Everything_ hurt.

There was a banging on the door – it was the noise that had woken me up. I sighed, flinging the door open to reveal Steve, standing there in his Captain America suit.

He looked astounded and, well, _violated_ when he saw me standing there in my pajamas. Well, sort-of pajamas. No one on this damn ship had bothered to buy me clothing of any kind, so I had been living in my grey long-sleeved shirt and pants for the past few days. It had been dirty and unhygienic, but no one would bring me anything else. Yesterday I had demanded some pajamas – after sweating my shirt past the point of _washable_ while training with Steve, I had finally convinced Fury to scrounge up something decent.

It wasn't much, though. The agents on the Helicarrier didn't exactly wear much other than black bodysuits. I had only found a white tank-top (it was actually some woman's undershirt, but I honestly didn't see the difference), a plaid pink cotton pajama top with buttons down the front, and a large pair of men's boxers. You know – underwear. But they were so big they came down to my knees, and thus I was fine with it.

Steve, though, apparently wasn't. He grimaced when he saw me in the shorts, tank top and unbuttoned pajama shirt, scrunching up his eyes.

"You could at least have put on something decent," he said, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Are you really that uncomfortable with seeing me in my sleepwear?"

He nodded silently.

I frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to me. "Is it because you were brought up in an age where seeing a girl like this was, uh . . . scandalous?"

There was a pause, and then Steve nodded silently again.

"Um. Oh," I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay," he hastily said. "Is that . . . acceptable . . . attire nowadays?"

"Pretty much," I blushed sheepishly. Steve slowly took his hand away from his eyes, but he was blushing quite profusely and wouldn't look at me.

"Uh, there's a meeting in the lab in five minutes," he said. "Fury says you have to be there."

"_Fineeeee_," I drew out the "e", slightly annoyed. But it was hard to be pissed off when Steve was blushing so adorably. Yes, I'll admit it – he looked really cute when he blushed as red as a tomato, because he was embarrassed. _I should parade around in my underwear more often, _I thought cheekily.

"Um . . ." he trailed off awkwardly. "I'll just be – I'll be – uh, I'll be going now," he randomly pointed down the hall, and then quickly turned on his heel and left.

I shook my head at his behavior, smiling to myself as I pulled the boxers up higher on my hips. After shutting the door I headed into the bathroom to brush my teeth, have my morning constitutional (sorry, I couldn't help it – my mom used to say that to me), and run a brush through my knotted blonde hair. My stomach grumbled hungrily as I stared back at my reflection. There were no more traces of my training with Steve, save for the swelling and bruising on my cheek where I had held the rifle.

Yesterday with the Captain had actually been kind of . . . _fun_. At first, I had sensed that he didn't really like me. But we chatted while we worked, sharing stories and laughing at each other's jokes. Eventually, I began to trust him – we were becoming friends. Slowly, but surely. He was a nice guy once you got past all the regulation soldier stuff.

I washed my face, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Back in my room, I came to the horrifying conclusion that I didn't have anything to wear _again._ I was going to have to show up in an official S.H.I.E.L.D meeting in my pajamas. Jeez, that screamed "mature". _At least I can make Steve blush again_, the evil part of me thought.

And so, slamming my bedroom door shut, I headed out of my room towards Banner's lab. I admittedly did get lost twice, but still arrived on time.

Doctor Banner, Tony, Fury and Steve were all in the room when I got there. Banner, it seemed, to do his "Tesseract" thing – but the others, for this mysterious "meeting".

My insides squirmed when Steve saw me again, and immediately he blushed a deep red, looking away quickly. Both Tony and Fury had no reaction though; they simply acted as if it was a normal thing for a teenage girl to interrupt a superhero meeting.

"Silverman," Fury greeted me, holding out a tray of breakfast foods. I grabbed it greedily, wolfing down every last morsel of disgusting cafeteria food – I hadn't touched my dinner last night, which had been a bowl of gruel.

"So," I asked, chewing on a croissant with my mouth open, "What's up?"

Fury cut straight to the chase. "As you have probably guessed, we're training you to become a superhero so can fight alongside the others."

"_Noooooooo_, I had no idea," I said sarcastically, taking another bite out of my croissant.

Fury ignored my comment. "We haven't been entirely truthful with you, Silverman. I called you in now-"

"Kidnapped, not called. You make it sound like I _wanted_ to come here."

"-because there is a hostile force at work. His name is Loki, and he is the brother of Thor. Loki is currently locked in a room on the Helicarrier, but he's got scientists working on an object called the Tesseract. It's a cosmic cube of self-sustaining, never-ending energy, and we think he wants to open a portal with it – a portal through which he will lead an army."

"That sounds really fun," I finished off my croissant, leaning my elbows on the counter heavily, "but I think I'm going to sit this one out."

"You don't have a choice, Miss Silverman. I brought you here because we need all the help we can get. Loki's made me very desperate."

"Look, buddy. I understand," I started (although I actually didn't understand at all). "But I'm a measly seventeen-year-old with no experience and hardly any control over her _weak_ powers whatsoever. Why do you need _me_ when you've already got Tin Can Man, Captain Six-Pack, an over-muscled chick masquerading as a god, an assassin, and – and a Doctor?" I waved my hand at Banner, not entirely sure what _his_ superpower was, unless just being really smart counted.

"Masquerading!" Tony suddenly snapped his fingers, and then got up and left the room. I stared after him in confusion, but made no comment.

"The world needs superheroes, Silverman," Fury said, glaring at me with his eye.

"But I don't want to be a superhero! I want to be a normal teenager with a normal life!" I stomped my foot.

"It's too late for that. You can control the elements – that's not normal, and it's never _going_ to be normal."

Tears sprung to my eyes. "But I honestly _don't_ want to be here. You should be leaving this to the professionals, not a young girl. I didn't ask for this life; I don't want to be a hero! It's fine for the others; they have training, and hearts practically made of gold and rainbows. I'm a useless piece of crap compared to the others, and I don't want to fight in some stupid battle."

Fury gazed at me evenly, trying to judge my angry expression. Steve still wasn't looking at me, but he wasn't blushing anymore, either.

Thankfully Tony burst in then, breaking the tension. There was a bundle of black and purple fabric in his arms, with a few stitches of silver. I looked at the thing fearfully, running a hand through my hair.

"It's your superhero costume," he said proudly, plopping it down on the table in front of me. "I helped design it. Made sure the fabric was flexible enough to move in."

I groaned, leaning down and banging my head on the table. "How can I possibly be a superhero even if I've never even saved anyone?" I drawled, closing my eyes.

"At least look at the costume," Tony sounded annoyed.

I stood up and grabbed the fabric, holding it up to the light. The suit was a full black body suit with a purple belt and knee-high purple boots. There were horizontal purple stripes on the legs, too, and a purple cross on the chest, ranging from shoulder to shoulder.

Well, not really. There was only one sleeve – the left one. On the right, the shoulder and arm had been cut off diagonally, although I did had gloves for both hands.

"Picking the colors was hard," Tony said, standing back to see my reaction. "We couldn't do green, red or blue, because those colors represent earth, fire and water respectively. We had to pick a color in between all that, to show that you manipulated _all_ the elements, not just one. So _I_ came up with purple," Tony grinned. "The shoulder and arm were cut off to make it more original; more unique and memorable."

"I hate it," I stated plainly, but Tony didn't look the least bit offended.

"Fantastic! Now why don't you try it on?"

"She'll need a superhero name," Fury interrupted.

"I've already got one all picked out," Tony said smugly. I slapped my hand to my forehead, dreading whatever was coming next.

But he just grinned at me as he set something down on the table. "Masquerade."

I glanced at the object on the table. It was a beautiful and finely crafted Venetian masquerade mask decorated with purple and silver, and there was a collection of purple feathers on one side. The delicate mask just covered the eyes and the nose – enough to "keep my identity hidden" while still leaving enough skin showing so that people would actually be able to see me talk. It was similar to Steve's mask, actually, although his was a helmet.

"God, Tony, I hate you," I banged my head on the table again, knowing that no matter how many times I could try and refuse, the name "Masquerade" was going to stick.

I had to admit, though, that Tony had been clever. Although the name had nothing to do with my powers, it was still a good superhero name. Mysterious and not giving away my identity. I think I would punched him if he had suggested "Silver-something", since my last name was Silverman. But obviously Tony had thought about the tattoo on my wrist – and said tattoo had condemned me to the name "Masquerade".

"Can I see the mask?" Steve asked, awkwardly reaching over me. He picked it up by one of the purple ribbons that would inevitably tie the mask to my head.

What happened next was completely unexpected and so sudden that I almost wanted to throw up. One minute I was watching Steve pick up the delicate mask with care, and the next, I was being thrown off my feet. I went flying through the air before landing back on the floor, skidding and bumping into Steve, who was already struggling to his feet. Debris was raining from the ceiling and dust and heat filled the air – something had _exploded_.

I swore, scrambling to my feet. Something in the air made me feel unsafe, and I wanted to be next to my two superhero buddies while shit went down. But they were already running out the door together, leaving me behind. My reaction, of course, was to chase after them . . . leaving the mask and costume behind.

I was lost within a matter of moments. As I wandered down a staircase onto a lower deck, I heard shouting and screaming from above. Something big was going on, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

There was a groaning noise from somewhere nearby, and I headed towards it. I caught a glimpse of Doctor Banner, lying on the ground. He had been thrown out of the window of the lab when the explosion happened, and was now curled up on a metal grate, making strange growling sounds.

"Uh . . . Doctor? Are you okay?" I asked, stepping closer. That was when I saw the ginger lady – Romanoff, or something – lying on the ground behind him. Her leg was caught under a heavy metal pipe that had probably fallen from the ceiling during the explosion.

She spotted me and her eyes widened. "Go!" she mouthed, waving at me to run off, but I stayed stationary.

"What's going in?" I asked, peering at her through the dust and smoke.

"Get out of here!" she shot back, looking panicked. I turned towards the Doctor again – he was turning an unhealthy shade of green, as if he was going to throw up or something.

"Is he okay?" I asked, pointing at Banner.

"Just run!" Romanoff yelled at me.

"But I can help . . . your leg . . ." I trailed off.

"No! Leave!"

"Well jeez, if you want Banner to yourself all that badly, then just say so," I rolled my eyes, stepping forward. With a quick movement of my hand, I conjured up a gust of wind strong enough to remove the pipe from Romanoff's leg.

She scrambled up faster than I had ever seen anyone move, her movements jerky and panicky. It was then that Banner let out a roar so _inhuman_, I began to truly fear for my life.

"Run!" Romanoff screamed, grabbing my hand and dragging me off towards a staircase. My feet felt leaden, though, as I watched Banner – quiet, passive Banner – transform into a huge, green, terrifying monster.

I screamed, and not only did the sound of my cry break the frozen spell over me . . . it also caught the monster's attention. It swiveled its great big green head around, turning to glare and snort as I started sprinting after Agent Romanoff. This unruly, angry monster made me think of the tale of Jekyll and Hyde – the way Jekyll had been such a nice guy (not unlike Banner), and Hyde had been, well . . . like _this _thing.

The Hulk.

I grabbed Romanoff's hand, and together we ran through the basement level, fearing for our lives as the Hulk came tearing after us. I screamed, squeezing Romanoff's hand tightly to make sure I didn't lose her.

In the end, that was exactly what happened. We tried to climb up a staircase, but the Hulk – who was right on our tail – ripped the staircase away. Romanoff, using those super-amazing-Russian-spy skills of hers, flipped herself up onto the landing. Me?

Well, as I had pointed out to Fury, I was just a clumsy teenager. I wasn't cut out for the superhero stuff. So when the Hulk ripped the staircase away, I went right down with it. But to my luck, he continued chasing after Romanoff, and forgot about me.

I lay crumpled under the staircase for a few minutes, my chest heaving as the Hulk's roars got further and further away. Eventually, I mustered up enough strength to crawl out from underneath the metal stairs, although I did have to use a bit of wind to push it off.

Picking myself up, I ran down the hallway, steeling my resolve to find Iron Man or the Captain – they could protect me. Or at least, if I was near them, I'd be safer.

Suddenly, the Helicarrier banked to the side. I was thrown to the floor and sent sliding down an embankment as the ship groaned, tilting precariously. I stopped sliding when I hit a railing, and stood up sorely. God, everything just _hurt_.

In front of me I found another goddamn staircase, and in front of that, a big circular glass room. To my surprise, there was a person in the room. He had long, greasy black hair and pale skin, along with a funny green robe and an even stranger reindeer helmet.

"Ah, it seems I can finally meet the newest addition to Fury's freak group," he said, staring at a control panel a few feet away. I glanced around, thinking there was someone else he might be talking to – but I was the only person in the general area.

Leaning heavily on the railing, I walked up the stairs towards him. "And who might you be?" I asked, scrunching up my nose.

"Loki, the future ruler of your world. You will bow before me one day, mortal."

I snorted and then burst into outright laughter, unable to hold it in as I pulled my boxers up higher on my hips. "Oh, please. No one's going to bow down to _you_ – you dress like a reindeer."

"Well, you don't look much better," he finally turned towards me, examining my pajamas. "Is that Fury's new uniform for all his officers?"

I frowned. "So you're the guy causing all the fuss, huh?" He just smiled proudly.

I stared back at him for a second, but then shrugged. Turning, I walked away.

"Hey – wait!" his voice suddenly became panicked and confused. "You can't just leave me like that! Aren't we supposed to have some sort of long conversation where you try and set me on the path for good and I insult you?" I just kept walking. "You can't just ask me a question and then walk away!" he bellowed again, but I didn't even give him the satisfaction of a shrug as I turned a corner and escaped from his view.

Sometimes my bad habit could come in handy, don't you think?

Maybe walking out before people could answer me wasn't always a bad thing.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, I gotta make this quick. I'm in a bit of a rush. Just like this chapter :P LOL sorry, I'm just trying to get things moving quickly. As I've stated countless times, the REAL character development will be in the sequel. **

**IMPORTANT: I made a website, and it has pictures of all the Avengers - and Sam! Also, I just uploaded a picture of her costume, since my description sucks XD Please check it out and tell me what you think. Or don't, it doesn't really matter - I just hope you'll take a look to see what "Masquerade" looks like (although I haven't got her mask up yet, because of some technical difficulties at my end :/) The website is: lexiblazefanfiction . webs . com (remove the spaces)**

**As per usual, updates will be every second day, or every even-numbered day of this month (June). Thanks to _ILoveReadingAndWriting, booklover1498, GoForTehGig, A Contradiction, YoursTruly13, comiccrazygothgirl, Tbonechick2011, LaughingLadybug _and _WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross_ for your wonderful reviews! They mean so much to me, and I love you all :)**

**Please review this chapter, and tell me what you think! I love hearing from you guys :) READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Lexi Blaze**


	8. All the Fun

Tony Stark's POV

_Jealousy is all the fun you think they had. - Erica Jong_

It is I, the amazing Tony Stark, who has the journal now. You may rejoice and celebrate.

I have to admit, I've missed writing this damn story. Although I hate doing it. And as Sam said in the last chapter, shit was going down.

Agent Barton, being the wonderfully devious betrayer he is, had blown up Engine 3 of the Helicarrier. Uncle Sam and I had been sent to fix it, and in the middle of that, Barton had shut down Engine 1 (along with releasing his minions to run rampant through the hallways). If anything, this just proved how stupid it was to have a flying fortress with only four engines.

We were quickly losing altitude as I dislodged debris from the propeller, trying to clear things away. The Captain was standing on a broken platform, probably fixing his hair or something. I doubt his loud shout of "grenade" and the explosion that followed was really of any importance.

I clenched my teeth together as I finished clearing everything away. As I told Cap, this thing needed a jump-start – and I was that jump. I just hoped Cap would be able to pull the red lever at the right time.

"JARVIS," I asked, speaking to the artificial intelligence that was the brains of my suit, "how are things going in the rest of the Helicarrier?"

"Not too well, sir," the polite male voice responded. "The Hulk and Thor are fighting in an airplane hanger, and Black Widow is sitting in shock in the detention wing. Fury and Hill are trying to keep Barton's agents from getting into the main control room and the bridge. Barton himself is looking through the halls for Loki, I suppose."

"Can you show me visuals?" I asked as I started up my foot boosters.

On the screen in front of me, JARVIS pulled up the security footage from three S.H.I.E.L.D cameras. The first was a video of Hulk and Thor fighting; nothing too exciting, until the Hulk jumped out of a window at a plane and Thor ran off.

On the next screen, Fury and Hill were shooting blindly at some of Loki's followers, while S.H.I.E.L.D agents worked to get the computers and Engine 1 back up and running. Honestly, they were all running around like chickens without heads.

The third video was the most interesting, though. On it, Agent Barton was creeping silently through the halls – until he walked straight into Sam Silverman.

"Watch where you're going, will you?" she asked, not realizing he was a threat until Barton grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her against the wall.

She swore, her face going red. "Hey, asshole, what wa-"

Barton whipped an arrow out from the quiver on his back and notched it into his bow. Sam had about half a second to realize what was going on, and managed to knock Barton's arrow to the side with wind just at the last moment. She scrambled to her feet, looking panicked.

"JARVIS, enlarge Screen 3 please," I ordered as I began pushing the propeller forwards. There was a loud groan of metal as a few more sheets fell away, and sparks flew.

Before my eyes, the image of Sam fighting Barton grew larger. He tried shooting another arrow, but it was hard because he was so close; Sam almost managed to dodge it. Almost. She had her hands in front of her face, trying to protect it, so the arrow still grazed across her palm. It left a long, deep red trail of blood. She went to kick him between the legs, but petty teenaged tricks like that didn't work on master assassins like him. He jumped out of the way, notching another arrow and letting lose almost immediately.

This arrow lodged itself in the wall right beside Sam's head. Barton had probably done that on purpose, just to scare her. I didn't know the guy that well, but I _did _know that his aim was better than _that. _

Sam thrust out her hand and Barton's hair lit on fire. He patted it out quickly, then reached out and slammed her against the wall again. Quick as Thor's lightning, he pulled out another arrow and held the tip of it to her throat, the string on the bow already pulled back.

"Someone help!" Sam yelled hoarsely, staring at Barton fearfully. "Cupid on Steroids is attacking me!"

Even I had to laugh at her bravery (or was it stupidity?) against one of S.H.I.E.L.D's best agents, who was about to kill her.

"You wanna call me that again?" Barton raised an eyebrow.

Sam just glared back. "Put me down," she said slowly, "or so help me God, I will-"

"SOMEONE CALLED FOR A GOD! I AM HERE TO HELP!" a low voice suddenly bellowed from the other side of the hall, and Goldilocks came storming towards Sam and Barton, Mjolnir already swinging. Sam took one look at Thor and screamed, as Barton turned to let his arrow fly at the god.

Thor blocked it easily, still thundering towards the pair. Although I knew he was there to help, obviously Sam didn't - she turned on her heel and ran down the hall alongside Barton as quickly as she could.

JARVIS's cameras lost sight of them then, and I spent a few precious seconds continuing to push the propeller. It was slow going, but I was gaining speed as I put everything I had into the boosters.

Thor appeared on another screen a moment later – this time, he had been caught by the camera outside of Loki's cell. Barton, I saw, was headed for the detention level. It seemed everyone had been separated . . . but then where was Sam?

"Steve?" a light female voice could suddenly be heard over the wind, and I spotted Sam, standing on the broken metal landing in her boxers, tank top and plaid pink button-down. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the wind as the blood from her hand smudged everywhere.

It was strange. I hadn't spent six hours training with her like Rogers had (as a matter of fact, I had hardly spent any time with her at all), but I still felt a sense of protection over her. _I_ was the one who had found and freed her, after all; _I_ was the one who had brought her out and showed her off to Fury. And it was _me_ who had come up with that costume and superhero name (both of which she was neglecting to use right now). I felt some sort of responsibility for Sam, as if she was my burden to watch over.

Mostly, though, I think I was keeping watch over her because she reminded me a lot of myself at that age (just less smart and awesome). Although she wasn't rich and selfish and arrogant, we were quite similar. And that certainly made it easier for me to connect with her.

Of course, though, I had to compete with _Rogers_. Mr. Perfect was probably already her best friend, and they'd probably shared all their deepest darkest secrets with each other (I personally believed that Rogers was secretly a male stripper at night, but I wasn't about to go and find out). Since I'm supposed to be super-honest in this story, I may as well go ahead and say it: I was a bit jealous of how easily they "clicked" and became friends.

I heard Sam yelp, and caught a glimpse of a dark figure behind her – the same figure that had been shooting at Rogers a few minutes ago. The man must have laid low for a few moments when Sam arrived.

He shot at her, the sounds of the bullets ricocheting loudly in the metallic space. Sam's eyes widened, and she lifted her palm to make the gun spontaneously erupt into flame.

"Sam?" Rogers' voice sounded strained, and as I sped past I caught a glimpse of him dangling off the platform, barely holding on to a wire. Sam spotted him at the same time as me, gasping and getting down on her knees to get a better look at his situation.

"Uh, Rogers? The lever!" I said, knowing he'd be able to hear me through the earpiece he was wearing. I also knew that now wasn't really the best time, but I honestly didn't want to get chopped into sushi.

Sam reached down her hand to help pull Rogers up, but he shook his head. "Go pull that red lever," he ordered.

"What? No! Why?" she asked stubbornly, again reaching down for him. All of a sudden the agent with the flaming gun attacked her, wrapping his arms around her neck and squeezing.

Sam flailed, gasping for breath as he picked her up and held her over the edge of the platform. She bit at his arm and he dropped her, but she managed to land on the metal grate.

"The lever, Captain!" I shouted, as the propeller started to go faster than me.

"Give me a moment!" he cried. "SAM! The lever!"

"I can't!" she replied, shouting. "This fatass is in my way!"

"Then remember what I taught you yesterday," Cap yelled as he began to pull himself back up the wire cord.

Sam furrowed her eyebrows, squaring off against the man. She was the first to make a move; she kicked out at his calf, and to my surprise, connected. The agent went down on one knee, letting out a grunt.

Sam, too, looked surprised that she had hit him. But the man quickly retaliated, knocking her on the back of the knees so that she went crashing to the ground, too. He grabbed her leg, trying to push her off the platform, but she kicked him in the face.

"Lever!" I cried, getting nervous. "JARVIS, put everything I've got into the boosters," I grumbled under my breath.

The agent and Sam got to their feet, but he was still standing in the way of the red lever. This time it was he who attacked first, but she dodged his blow and managed to connect when she hit back. The next few moments were filled with grunts of effort as Sam and the agent tore into each other, both trying their best to outfight the other.

My heart practically stopped with fear as I felt the propeller become too fast for me. "Lever . . ." I said one more time nervously, and the Captain yelled up at Sam to "pull the damn thing!"

"But what about you?" the idiotic girl asked, deflecting a blow from the agent.

"JUST PULL IT!" I yelled loud enough for her to hear, and Cap grimaced as the speaker in his ear crackled. Turning, Sam raised her hands and sent a gust of wind towards the agent, knocking him to the ground so that he was out of her way.

But Sam hadn't thought it through completely. Although he was knocked to the ground, the wind had been strong enough to push him right off the platform, too. "NO!" Sam cried, leaping forwards to try and catch him, but it was useless. The man disappeared off the edge of the Helicarrier, screaming as Sam knelt on the metal platform, staring at his receding form with wide, horror-struck eyes.

"Uh oh," I said simply as the propeller became too fast, and I was banged around painfully in the middle of it. Believe me when I say that being shredded to bits is _not_ something I want to repeat again. I'm going to have bruises from that for . . . forever.

Captain had finally finished climbing up the wire by this point, and leapt straight to the lever, pulling it all the way down. I was relieved to be thrown right out of the propeller as all my systems shut down, and thankfully I skidded through the open door into the hanger. Lying on the ground, I took in great, gulping breaths, thankful to not have been shredded. Captain and Sam could've pulled the lever a bit earlier, though. Just saying. We didn't want poor old Tony getting cut up now, did we? Then where would the team be without my genius mind?

After a few minutes, I realized Captain and Sam hadn't come in from the platform yet. Groaning, I got up, taking my helmet off so I could see as I wandered back outside.

Sam was still crouching at the edge of the platform, peering over the edge. She was an awful, unhealthy shade of white, her eyes round and unblinking. The expression on her face was so horror-struck it scared me.

"Oh my God," she was saying, over and over again. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What have I done?"

Rogers knelt beside her, rubbing her back awkwardly. He stood when he saw me, a relieved expression on his face, now that he knew I was okay. "I think she's gone into shock," he said quietly.

"What, because she killed a man by pushing him over the edge?" I said loudly and obnoxiously (on purpose). Rogers shot me a look, and then reached down and pulled Sam to her feet.

She could barely walk, but somehow he managed to lead her inside. Once we were down the hallway a little ways though, she had to sit down on the floor.

"Go get a medical officer," Captain nodded at me, but I crossed my arms over my suit of armor.

"Why should I do it? Why can't you?"

"Dammit Stark, is it really that hard for you to be _helpful_?" he shouted, before storming off and leaving me with Sam. I shrugged, unfazed.

She sat on the ground, curled in a ball. As it was too difficult for me to sit, I instead stood over her, looking at the top of her blonde head.

"What have I done?" she repeated. "I killed someone."

"Welcome to the superhero world, Sammy," I shifted my weight from foot to foot.

"What if he had a family? A wife? Kids or friends? He had a life. And it's my fault that he's dead," she said softly. "How could I have done something so heartless?"

"Sammy, dear, it wasn't heartless. You didn't mean to kill him. Just in case you don't remember, _he_ attacked _you_. Not only were you self-defending, but you were trying to save me and Rogers."

"That doesn't change the fact that he's _dead_!"

I sighed. "A lot of people probably died today, Sam, both good _and _bad. At least for you, when that guy died, it was by accident. And if you're going to be a superhero, and suit up with the rest of us . . . you're going to have to get used to the idea of killing and death. Not every villain ends up in jail."

It was then that Rogers showed up again with a doctor. Mr. Perfect picked Sam up bridal-style, with one arm under the back of her knees and the other around her back. She clung to him, burying her face in his neck.

I glared at him. "You know, we were actually having a nice talk-"

"Save it, Stark," he gave me a tired look, as if he was exhausted by all our bickering. Captain America strutted down the hall with the doctor rushing after him, not even affording a second glance back at me.

Well, I was certainly feeling very loved.

And once again, I'll admit it: I was jealous. I could never be a hero to someone like_ that_ – you know, picking them up and carrying them to safety even after the danger was gone. It was just like (according to Rogers) I would never sacrifice my life for someone else's.

_Well, Freedom Pants, we'll just have to see about that._

* * *

**A/N: Hey, so, yeah, hi guise :3 I know the Tony arc is moving awfully fast, but, well . . . I dunno. It's just going to have to be like that :P Remember to check out the website for pictures and Masquerade's costume: lexiblazefanfiction . webs . com (remove the spaces).**

**There was an overwhelming response on the last chapter - thank you guys so, so, so, so, so, so much! Words honestly do not express how thankful I am to each and every one of you who read and review. I've never gotten this much attention on a story, and it means a lot to me. Thank you all so much, whether you're a reviewer or just a lurking reader! Hopefully you'll all tell me what you think of this chapter, too - if the response is anything like last time, I honestly won't know what to do O_o Words do not express how thankful I am ;)**

**I try to respond to every signed review - sorry if I missed you! Anonymous reviews _are _accepted, but please, no flames. EXTRA SPECIAL thanks to all my fabulous reviewers from last time - you all blew me away: _LaughingLadybug, Little Weasley Girl, A Contradiction, HannajimaShields, booklover1498, GrumpBadger13, TA-twinArmageddons, ILoveReadingAndWriting, comiccrazygothgirl, TheGirlThatIsBorderLineCrazy , TheMostRandomOfRandomWriters , anon, YoursTruly13, AvengerGirl95, Invader Ivy, _and _WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross!_ Welcome to all the new people, and I hope to hear from everyone again :3**

**Thanks again for reading guys! Next chapter will be up Thursday, so stay tuned and tell me what you think! **

**READERS ASSEMBLE!  
****- Lexi Blaze**


	9. Masks are Dropped

Steve Rogers' POV

_The closing years of life are like a masquerade party, when the masks are dropped. - Cesare Pavese_

Sam wasn't doing so well.

None of us really were.

I carried her onto the bridge, the doctor that I had found fretting over her like a mother hen. He attended to her hand wound quickly, wrapping it in white gauze, but said there wasn't much he could do to help with her mental shock. Wrap a blanket around her, he said, and don't leave her alone. Keep her hydrated, too.

Sam was curled into my chest, her head on my shoulder as she rested in my arms, unmoving. I was reluctant to put her down, but did so when I saw the situation in the control room. Gently placing her in a chair beside the doctor, I walked down to where Fury was standing, ordering people around.

"Captain," he nodded in recognition without turning around to look at me.

"Director," I had the urge to salute him, but quelled it. "What's going on?"

Fury turned towards me. "Our computers are down. Banner's missing. Thor's missing. Loki's escaped. We're barely in the air."

"Is there anything I can do, sir?"

"Get cleaned up. I want you, Silverman and Stark to join me in a meeting on the bridge in ten minutes."

"Silverman's gone into shock, sir. She killed an agent, and doesn't know how to react, sir."

Fury frowned. "Then talk her through it, Rogers," he said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "She needs to pull herself together if we're to sort out this mess."

"Yes, sir," I nodded, turning on my heel and walking back towards her. The doctor left, realizing that there was nothing else he could do.

"Oh, and Rogers?" Fury suddenly called up from below. I looked at him over my shoulder questioningly. "Agent Coulson is dead."

I turned back towards Sam, feeling sick. Although I hadn't really known Coulson, he had been a friend. A good man. How could the world suddenly feel so much darker without him; with this news? Why were we all still alive? Why hadn't the world ended?

Why did it just feel . . . empty?

Sam didn't look at me as I pulled a chair up beside her. We sat in silence, both of us staring at our hands. Slowly, she leaned over and put her head on my shoulder, but neither of us said anything.

Something changed between us then, in our moment of shared grief. It was as if we had gone from just being friends, to being siblings. Yesterday, we had talked and chatted like old acquaintances. I had begun to trust her. And now . . . now, it was _me_ who she was looking to for guidance. Not Stark. _Me. _It was _my _shoulder that she laid her head on; _my_ hand she reached out for and grabbed, clinging to it.

I squeezed her hand, pressing my face into the top of her hair for a moment. "Are you okay?" I asked after a pause.

She sniffed, but didn't say anything.

"You know . . . we lost a man today, too. Agent Phil Coulson. Did you know him?"

She shook her head.

"He was a kind man. An idealistic agent filled with courage. S.H.I.E.L.D won't be the same without him," I sighed. "But he died trying to protect us. Just like that man died doing his job. Sam," I retracted my hand from her grasp and moved her head off my shoulder, "he knew what he was getting in to when he became an agent for Loki. You did the right thing – you were just trying to save me and Stark."

"But he had a _life_," she hung her head.

"_We_ have lives, too. You had no other choice. It was either all three of us, or him. We're in the middle of a war, Sam, and there are going to be casualties. If you accept the job Fury's given you, you're going to have to learn to kill. It's a horrible thing, but it's in the job description. We heroes always seem to be the ones who have to make the big decisions - and this is _war._ People are going to die," I sighed again, shrugging out of the top half of my Captain America suit. I had on a long-sleeved blue shirt underneath, the soft fabric covering my skin. Sam sat curled up in her pajamas, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes – the way a young, scared girl looks at her older brother when he tells her about all the evils in the world.

"Tony said the same thing," her expression was sad. "I know you guys are right. It's just . . . it's hard. I'm afraid that I didn't do the right thing."

"Maybe it was just one of those things in the 'grey area'," I said, leaning forward. "You know, the place between good and evil. Where nothing's right and nothing's wrong."

Her mouth twitched. "That's actually a really good description."

"Now you're sounding more like yourself," I smiled. As I already said, our relationship changed then – from friends to siblings. She now felt like a little sister to me; a sister that needed my protection.

Tony walked in without his Iron Man suit on, his sudden presence unexpected and disruptive. He sat down in a chair and turned away from us, looking off into space. He didn't even mention what I knew must've been on his mind – Coulson's death.

Director Nick Fury chose then to join us. I sat back in my chair as Sam uncurled herself from a ball, putting her feet on the floor and resting her elbows on the table.

"These were in Phil Coulson's jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them," Fury started. He threw a bunch of cards down on the table in front of me, and I picked one up. It was a picture of me as Captain America, with my old shield and my hand raised to my brow in a salute. It shook me to see that there was blood staining the card.

They were Coulson's vintage Captain America cards; the ones he had cherished and prized so much. The same ones he had wanted me to sign. It made my heart ache, to remember how much he had believed in me. And I had let him down – I had hardly even believed in myself. Coulson had thought higher of me than any of the others, and I felt like I owed it to him to do _something _for his memory, now that he was gone.

"We're dead in the air up here," Fury went on. "Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor. I got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming," he said, sounding a bit choked. It was then that I realized how much Coulson's death had shaken him, just like it had the rest of us.

Fury paused, looking directly at me. "Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier." He turned and walked around the table slowly, looking at the floor. "There was an idea – Stark knows this – called The Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people - see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea – in heroes."

Stark suddenly stood up, before walking off without saying anything. Fury hung his head. "Well, it's an old-fashioned notion."

Was that comment meant for me? _Old-fashioned_?

"That's why I'm actually here, isn't it," Sam said softly. "To be a . . . to be an Avenger." Fury didn't say anything; just stormed down the stairs to go and supervise the re-boot of the computers.

I got up, aiming to find Stark. Fury's words had sparked a fire in me, and I now knew what to do. I just needed a bit of help with it.

I was halfway down a remote hallway, looking for Stark, when I heard Sam padding after me. I stopped and turned to look at her – when she smacked me in the face.

"What was that for?" I exclaimed, looking at her incredulously. Her storm-grey eyes stared right back at me in that defiant way of theirs. Color was returning to her face as the effects of her shock wore away. She looked more stable now, and less . . . troubled.

"Does it matter?" she asked, raising an eyebrow delicately. "It's in the past."

I gave her a look. "Where are you going with this?"

She sighed. "Can we sit down? I need to talk to you."

I led her a little further down the hallway, towards a small, generally unused staircase. We sat on the fourth step, close enough for our legs to be touching.

There was a long stretch of silence between us. Sam stared off into the distance, obviously distracted by her thoughts as I stared at her. She was quite pretty, with her grey eyes and blonde hair. Her face was acne-free, too (although last night during our training session, she had revealed that it was because she had gone on Accutane – an acne-curing drug – in grade 9). The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was long. Finally, she spoke, although it wasn't what I was expecting.

"Have you ever seen The Lion King?"

I furrowed my brow. "Uh, Sam, I kind of have more important things to do-"

"No, I'm serious," she looked at me. "Just hear me out, Steve. I'm going somewhere with this."

I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. "No, I haven't seen it," I eventually answered her question.

"Didn't think so," Sam shrugged, picking at her nails. "It's a Disney movie. Do you know what Disney is?"

"They're a film animation company, aren't they?"

"Yeah. The Lion King was released in 1994, and it's their top movie. And that's saying something, because they've made over 50 movies," she nodded to herself. "It's my favorite Disney movie, too. When I was younger, I never wanted to watch anything _but_ The Lion King." She took a deep breath. "One of the great things about the movie is that it has a message. And the message is clear, because they actually say it out loud in the film. You don't have to analyze every aspect of it to figure out the theme of the movie." Her hands trembled a bit. "The theme is to let go of your past. Well, to learn from it." She reached out to smack me again, but I dodged back just in time. "See?" she smiled. "You learned from the past."

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. ". . . I'm confused."

She ran her hand through her hair, and I caught another glimpse of the "Masquerade" tattoo. "There's a scene," she started, "where Simba is talking to Rafiki. Basically, Simba – who is the main character – is the son of the king. Simba's uncle Scar killed the king so that Scar could take over the throne, but he convinced Simba that _Simba_ had killed his father. Afraid of the consequences and how much everyone would hate him, Simba ran away. He was scared too, I think, of himself – he didn't want to believe that he had killed his dad.

"When he became an adult, a lioness named Nala found Simba and told him about how Scar was a terrible king, and how they needed Simba on the throne. Simba ran off again, still afraid. That was when Rafiki – the crazy, philosophical, genius baboon who is also slightly terrifying – made his appearance.

"He hit Simba over the head with a stick, and naturally, Simba got mad. Rafiki's response, though, was 'It doesn't matter. It's in the past.' He was, of course, referencing how Simba was afraid of his past – 'killing' his father and all.

"Simba's reply to Rafiki was 'Yeah, but it still hurt,' to which Rafiki said 'Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it . . . or learn from it.' Rafiki went to hit Simba on the head with the stick again, but this time, Simba dodged it – thus, learning from his past."

"And Simba was a . . . lion?" I asked, a bit confused as to how animals could be so complex.

She laughed; it was a nice sound. "Yeah. And the reason I'm telling you all this is because . . . well, I realized something. Killing that agent made me think of _my_ past. I need to face it, and stop running. I have to go back," she curled her hands into fists, and gently I took them in my hands. "I've been running from it for so long." Sam leaned against me, taking a deep breath. "I think the best way for me to deal with what I've done is to tell someone. So Steve, if you're willing to listen . . . I want to talk about all the things I've kept bottled up for so long. So I can forgive myself, learn from my mistakes, and move on. I'm sure Tony's already hacked S.H.I.E.L.D's files to find out what I've done to be here."

I stared down at our hands as I slowly uncurled her fingers. "Of course I'll listen," I murmured, leaning my forehead against the top of her head.

Sam took a deep, shuddering breath, staring off at nothing again. There was a long pause, and it took her a while to begin speaking. But once she started, it seemed hard for her to stop.

"It started with my Captain America report."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the sort of filler chapter. Next time, the entire chapter will be Sam's flashback to how she came to be and all that fancy stuff :P I hope you enjoyed this, though!**

**WOW, the response on the last chapter was, once again, mind-blowing. Honestly, I could not have asked for better readers :D I'm astounded by how kind you all are, and by everyone's loyalty to this story :3 It means so, so much to me, and I really appreciate it. I could not have asked for better readers, so thank you all so, so much (whether you're reading, or reading and reviewing!)**

**The feedback has been just wonderful, and thank you all from the bottom of my heart! Special thanks to the wonderful reviewers (and here's a virtual cookie): _AdelphiBahana, Comiccrazygothgirl, A Contradiction, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, Little Weasley Girl, brandibuckeye, tribute14, GrumpyBadger13, Jen Lennon, AvengerGirl95, Invader Ivy, Fantasy-Mania31, TheGirlThatIsBorderLineCrazy , TA-twinArmageddons, LaughingLadybug, HannajimaShields, ILoveReadingAndWriting, _and _booklover1498! _I'm going through exams right now, and you make the days so much easier to deal with :3**

**Until next time, guys (in two days - Saturday)! Make sure to check out the website for pictures, and Sam's costume: lexiblazefanfiction . webs . com (remove the spaces). Once again, thanks so much, and as always . . . **

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Lexi**


	10. Mistakes

Sam Silverman's POV

_Not admitting a mistake is a bigger mistake. - Robert Half_

"They're fighting again."

I stopped short at the top of the staircase, hand on the railing as I looked down. My 15-year-old brother Luke was sitting on the stairs, peeking through the banister at our parents, who were in the kitchen.

"How is that news?" I cocked a hip, peering down at the top of his blonde head.

"This is the third time they've had a major fight in two days," he kept his voice low. I pulled the sleeves of my favorite grey long-sleeved shirt down over my hands, crouching beside Luke to catch a glimpse of our parents.

Dad was screaming at Mom, pointing angrily and making weird hand gestures. Mom had her back pressed up against the stove, a pot in her hand as tears ran down her face. She was yelling right back though, unafraid of his curse words.

"Do you think they're going to get a divorce?" Luke asked, with no emotion in his voice.

I sighed, slumping on the stairs. "Yeah, probably. They've been at each other's throats for what, four months now?"

"Half a year, actually."

I ran a hand through my hair, messing it up. "What're they fighting about this time?"

"You, of course. What else?"

I groaned. "Honestly, don't they have better things to talk about? I should be old news now."

Luke grimaced. "Mom's threatening to call child services again."

"You think she'll do it?"

"Maybe. She seems pretty worked up."

We sat in silence on the staircase for a few minutes, listening to the banging of pots and my parents' yells. I put my elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands. All I needed right now was someone to comfort me; someone to hold me and tell me it'd be okay in the end. But who was going to do that? Luke, who needed more comforting than I? My parents, who were the source of my problems? My boyfriend, who didn't exist, since I didn't actually _have_ a boyfriend? Or my friends, who didn't even know I had parental troubles?

My cat, Trooper, a black-and-gray tabby, sauntered over to me, her tail sticking straight up in the air. I scratched her under the chin and she meowed, rubbing her face against my leg. I was a total cat person, and Trooper was my little baby. She was honestly the cutest little thing I had ever seen, and I was lucky; I was her favorite human in the house.

I heard a scream from the kitchen, and the sound of a pot clattering to the floor. I shot up, shaking my head and ignoring Trooper's meows. "This is ridiculous. I'm going to school."

"Will you drive me?" Luke asked.

"Fine, Puke," I frowned at him, ruffling his hair. "Grab my car keys while I get my books and meet me outside."

A few minutes later we were greeted by the forgiving silence of my car. I couldn't stand it though, and popped my iPod into the car jack, turning up the music.

"What do you want to listen to?" I questioned Luke.

"Black Sabbath, of course," he nodded at me, switching the iPod to his song of choice. Lukie and I shared an interest in metal and classic rock music like Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, but our favorite pre-school song was, without a doubt, Black Sabbath's "Iron Man".

Luke, being the idiot he was, liked to make up his own lyrics to the harsh electric guitar tune. "I am an ice cream man," he shouted as he turned up the volume, "running over fat kids in my van." I laughed as I pulled out of the driveway, turning into the street. "When I ring my bell, all the little fat kids run like hell."

"You're terrible!" I smacked him on the leg, but I was laughing as we sped down the street in my small silver Ford Focus. A lot of my friends liked to claim that their cars were their "babies" or their "pride and joy", but I wasn't like that. Quite frankly, my car sucked so much I didn't even bother to learn what model or make it was. But at least I _had_ a car.

"Wouldn't it be cool to meet the real Iron Man?" Luke shouted over the music, and I turned the volume down so we could talk.

"You mean Tony Stark?" I asked, and he looked at me with grey eyes so similar to mine it was startling. We looked so alike that if you put a long blonde wig on Luke, he probably could've passed for me. "Nah. I hear he's an asshole."

"Yeah, but he's rich," Luke replied. "I can totally see him hooking me up with an Iron Man suit of my own," he mimicked blasting repulsor rays out of his hands.

"Dream on," I muttered under my breath, not entirely comfortable with the hand gestures he was making – because when I did the same thing, I could control the element of wind.

The story of how I came by my powers wasn't a happy one. I wasn't a mutant like those X-Men people, but I didn't get bitten by some weird spider or something. I wasn't granted powers by a mystical alien, and I wasn't granted three wishes from a genie either.

Mom and Dad were scientists. They both worked in a lab somewhere downtown – we lived in Chicago, Illinois, The Windy City. They had been working on two different chemical formulas – one to permanently clean and filter all water, and another to fertilize the earth better, or something stupid like that. I don't even know. Science was never my forte, like it was Luke's. I was more of a history girl.

Dad had gotten the brilliant idea of tampering with the formulas, and then mixing them with other chemicals. Yeah, I don't even know why they let him in the lab in the first place. He was an idiot. He's still an idiot.

Back in the home, things weren't going so well. Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer – it wasn't fatal, she could be healed – but I think that messed with Dad's head a little bit. And I was working on my report about Captain America.

I've already mentioned that, haven't I? My history final was to write an essay on something to do with World War II. I decided to write about whether or not we would have won the war if Captain America, the first superhero ever, hadn't been around.

In the beginning, Dad had helped me with the report. But then he got more and more interested in the super soldier serum they had used to make the Captain a superhero. And just like a crapload of scientists before him (including, I later found out, Doctor Bruce Banner), Dad attempted to re-create the serum – except this time, with his own little twist.

Dad added all those earth and water chemicals to the mixture, but he didn't stop there. He thought "why not try and control _all_ the elements? What's the harm?" So he cooked up a big pot of this shit (okay, not really) and tried it on lab rats. But they were rats – nothing happened. I think a few spontaneously combusted, but that was it.

Mom was in the hospital at this point in time, getting her surgery done. As I said, that messed with Dad's head. He decided that the serum worked, just not on rats. So there I was one night, sitting at the computer working on my essay, when he came up behind me and stabbed me in the arm with a needle filled with the serum. He did it to his_ own daughter. _He should've picked a hobo who was about to die, or something.

I'm pretty sure I blacked out, but I don't really know. I don't remember much about that night; the serum had seriously affected my brain. I just remember Dad crying and screaming, as if he had suddenly woken up and realized what he had just done.

The next day, Dad broke down and told Mom. They'd been fighting ever since. Mom was horrified to find out what Dad had done; Dad was horrified that he had done it in the first place. But that didn't erase the fact that he actually _had_ done it. He was a changed man, and neither Mom, Luke (who knew about the whole incident), nor I could look at him the same.

Mom kept threatening to call child services to get rid of him, but she never followed through on her threats. To the best of their knowledge, the serum hadn't done anything to affect me. Although they fought all the time now, it wasn't anything near as bad as it would have been had they known the serum had worked.

I wasn't granted powers because I was special; because I was extra courageous or because I loved helping others. I didn't deserve my powers; I just happened to be the wrong daughter at the wrong time. In a way, it was the Captain who had condemned me. It was his fault Dad had tried to make a serum in the first place.

Slowly, the effects started to become more obvious to me – and only me. I didn't tell anyone – not my parents, not my friends, not even Luke. Somehow, though, the government found out. They tried to raid my house; to put me in a lab and test me; to lock my father away. But then, as quickly as their little invasion had started, it stopped. I found out later that Director Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D had stepped in, intervening – super-humans were their official area of expertise, after all. Fury had stopped the government from taking me away, but he had kept a close eye on me nonetheless.

I found that I could control wind with just a flick of my hand, and light things on fire by thinking about them (well, almost; my aim still sucked back then). I couldn't do anything with water . . . but then there was earth.

I could spontaneously start earthquakes.

Annnnd now we're back full circle to the day I was talking about. It started out normally enough – parents fighting, riding to school with Luke, worrying about my English test the next week. But the day had ended so, so horribly.

The drive to school was a good twenty minutes through the busy traffic and streets. During the ride, I helped Luke study for a Spanish quiz he had ("Now, Puke, how do you say 'It's really cold'?" "Hace muy frío." "_No_, you moron, it's 'Hace _mucho_ frío'! How are you even passing that class? You should've gone into French!" "We don't have a French class at our high school." ". . . Whatever.") My brother and I weren't the best of friends, and we may have fought a lot, but we were still close.

I pulled the car into the student parking lot, grabbing my bag and stepping out. Luke followed behind me, and then said goodbye as he headed off to the language wing of the school. I had math first class – _fun times_.

As I trudged off across the pavement towards the school doors, a breeze blew my hair around wildly. I sighed, kicking a pebble on the ground. I had forgotten to close my car door, so turning around, I raised my hand and slammed it shut with my own wind.

I think it's safe to say that I was feeling . . . off. There might've been something weird in the air, or I might've just been in a pissy mood. It wasn't my time of the month, so I couldn't use that as an excuse. But everyone in my family had been on edge recently – as Luke said, this morning had been my parents' third major fight in two days. That was a lot, even for them.

Inside the school, I ran my fingers through my knotted hair as I went to my locker. Penny and Dana, my two best friends, popped up beside me. Penny's dark brown hair was wind-swept like mine (she had to walk to school every day, since she only lived ten minutes away), but Dana looked perfectly coiffed, as always. She was the sort of girl who worried a lot about her looks.

"Don't look now," Penny's eyes lit up as she looked over my shoulder at something behind me, "but Mark's coming."

I buried my head in my locker then, embarrassed. Mark was my ex-boyfriend, but it wasn't quite as simple as "we had gone out for a few weeks and then broke up". No, Mark and I had been _the _couple; the high-school sweethearts; the couple that everyone thought was going to grow old together and get married right after high school. Not even four months ago, we had broken up. It had been a "mutual" agreement, but I didn't fully believe that. Judging by the way Mark still looked at me, I could tell he still really liked me.

It had been hard, letting go of him. We had gone out for almost three full years, after all - since halfway through grade 9. And I could confidently admit that my newfound superpowers had nothing to do with our breakup; I simply hadn't felt that "something" around him anymore. I had needed to move on.

"Hey, Dana. Penelope. Samantha," he nodded at us as he walked past my locker. Mark had always had this weird thing where he liked to call everyone by their full names, and no matter how many times I got mad at him about it, he wouldn't stop.

"Mark," I nodded back at him politely, affording a small smile. He gazed at me with a slightly sad expression on his face. "Can I . . . talk to you? At lunch?"

"Um, yeah. Sure," I stood on my tiptoes nervously as my heart gave a squeeze. "Meet you in the cafeteria?"

He nodded, turning around to continue walking down the hall. I slammed my locker door shut and then banged my head against it, groaning. I mean, just because we had broken up didn't mean we couldn't still talk. But things would end up being awkward, I could already tell.

"Oh my God, he totally still likes you," Dana gushed, her eyes bright. "He's _so _cute. And a lot of the other girls-"

"I don't want to hear it, Dana," I glared at her, starting to walk towards my math class. "Seriously, save it. Now is not a good time."

"Well, what crawled up your ass and died?" she snapped, looking offended.

"Oh, back off, Dana," Penny rolled her eyes. I had to admit, I liked Penny more than Dana – but I had also known Penelope for six more years than my other best friend.

The three of us had math class together that morning. It was the only class I had with both of them, and although they gave me a headache sometimes, I was glad to have friends like them. Penny was always there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on, and Dana was always there when I needed to rant and yell. They protected me.

Halfway through math, I got bored (gee, that's a surprise). I tried drawing on my binder – a terrible Iron Man sketch, an even worse Dark Mark (from Harry Potter) – but that didn't calm me down. I felt nervous, for some reason. It was the kind of feeling that made me think I had forgotten something, or that I was neglecting to do something important. Like lock the house before going away for the weekend. Or knowing I did terribly on a Spanish project, but handing it in anyway.

Doodling didn't calm me down. Writing down the song lyrics for "Stairway to Heaven" (by Led Zeppelin) on Penny's homework didn't help either. I felt like screaming and throwing everything off my desk, but I refrained, instead braiding Dana's hair. I still felt jittery, though, even after scrolling through my iPod to play a few games of Temple Run (and managing to not get caught).

My boredom and anxiety eventually turned into something else. Discreetly, I flicked a breeze through the room. The teacher looked up, thinking a window was open, but all of them were closed. I sent a breeze to knock over her coffee mug, and snickered when it spilt on her lesson plan.

A lot of pencils and notebooks were falling off of desks for the next few minutes, and the class started to get mad at the wind appearing from nowhere. Penny snickered as Dana's bag slid halfway across the floor, and my friend dove to catch it.

I guess my concentration was off that day, or that I simply wasn't aware of what I was doing. Because the next thing I knew, the blinds that were covering the windows were on fire.

"Shit!" I gasped, the first to notice. I knew I had done it – I had actually been looking right at the blinds a mere second ago – but I hadn't meant to s_et them on fire._ I jumped out of my seat, looking around for the fire extinguisher.

The tablecloth on the teacher's desk burst into flame then, too. Kids started screaming, and someone had the good sense to run into the hallway and pull the fire alarm. I tried spraying the fire out with the extinguisher, I really did, but I only seemed to be making it _worse. _Eventually, Penny had to drag me out of the math classroom.

Students were filing through the hallways, laughing and joking loudly, probably thinking it was a fire drill. But then the sprinklers went off, and people started screaming as we were all soaked to the bone. I groaned, trying to cover my head with my bag.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Dana asked, looking frightened as kids pushed around her. Penny had disappeared in the throng, and we had lost sight of our class.

"Um, I don't know. The field?" I said, but it was more of a question than a statement. I panicked, and one of the school banisters on the wall burst into flame. Students screamed, pushing each other so they could get away from the heat and the smoke.

I _knew _I was causing all of this, even though it wasn't on purpose. And maybe that was what set me off – the fact that it _wasn't on purpose, _and yet, I couldn't control it. As Dana and I ran down a staircase and out towards the football field, my mind started to go a bit off-kilter. The last time I had felt this out-of-control was the night Dad had stabbed me with that goddamn needle.

Just that realization cracked what little control I still had. And then my earth power – which I hadn't even _discovered _yet – kicked in.

The ground started to shake, and I screamed as Dana and I tumbled to the pavement underfoot. Everything was shaking and cracking, and kids shrieked as a small rift opened in the ground. "EARTHQUAKE!" one of the teachers was screaming, trying to get kids out to the open space of the football field.

A window in one of the classrooms exploded; glass rained down, along with a chunk of the wall. I didn't have enough time to react as it hurdled towards us – and caught Dana right on the leg.

She fell to the ground, knocked unconscious as the chunk pinned her leg down. I let out another panicked cry, running towards her – but two strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me back as more glass exploded and the ground continued to shake. I turned to find myself in Mark's arms, and he dragged me further from the school.

I was crying, and screaming, and gasping for air as the ground stopped shaking. Mark stroked my hair, trying to calm me down – but that was the thing. I was so upset over what I had already done, that I couldn't stop. I couldn't get a grip on myself.

The entire outside wall of the school burst into flame.

Teachers were running around, trying to organize the kids and make sure everyone was okay. Most looked fine, if a little shaken, but there was a large crowd around Dana and I couldn't see her. I was the only one still screaming and crying, and I wrenched myself out of Mark's arms so I could run back towards my best friend.

I remember seeing Penny somewhere, looking at me as if she had seen a ghost. "Why are you so upset?" she had asked, but I had just stared back blankly. She couldn't know that _I _had caused all this mayhem.

I looked back at the school doors then. I don't know what made me do it – it's like in gym class, when some instinct tells you to turn around and see the ball coming right for your head. This time there was no ball, though. It was Luke, coming out of the school doors with a calm look on his face.

I choked on a sob then, because I knew what was going to happen before it did. The entire doorway burst into flame, as part of the wall gave away. I hadn't set those on fire this time – they had just burned, along with the rest of the school.

I turned and ran then, ran as fast as I could. It was hard to breathe through the smoke and tears, and my lungs seared, but I kept running. I couldn't bear to stand and watch as my brother got crushed under the wall. That calm look on his face was seemingly burned into my mind, just the like still-burning walls of the school. _He never even saw it coming._

Yes, I burned down my high school – and almost broke Chicago with an earthquake at the same time. _That _was why S.H.I.E.L.D considered me a potential threat; _that _was why Fury had tracked me down, huddling in some random gas station bathroom and crying to myself; _that _was why he had dragged me aboard the Helicarrier. I was powerful, but I was unstable. So, so unstable. When I panicked, things only got worse.

I had to admit, though, the nice thing about being locked in a room on the Helicarrier was that I had no internet access. No way to see how many people I killed; no way to see how much money I had cost the city and the school. No way to see if Luke had survived or not.

_Are you happy now, Fury?_ Are you happy now that everyone knows just what I've done wrong? Now that they fully realize I'm _not _a hero? If anything . . . I'm a bad guy.

And why does _attempting _to be the hero scare me so much more than just _accepting _I'm the villain?

* * *

**A/N: So . . . um . . . yeah.**

**Lots was revealed in this chapter O_o pleasepleaseplease review and tell me what you thought of it! Even I'm not sure quite what to think of my own work :P**

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**- Lexi**


	11. Action and Inaction

Tony Stark's POV

_Action cures fear, inaction creates terror. - Douglas Horton_

Life sucked. That's all there basically was to it.

I stood in a remote part of the Helicarrier, staring at nothing as my thoughts ran through my head like demented children. I thought about Coulson. I thought about Sam. I thought about Rogers and Thor and Banner; I thought about Romanoff and Barton. I thought about Fury and Loki and Pepper. Of all the people I knew, pretty much.

It was weird, to hear this "Avengers" thing brought up again – with Coulson gone, everything seemed a lot different. As if the world was on pause until we figured out what to do – until we figured out how to make sure he hadn't died in vain.

"Was he married?" Rogers' voice suddenly sounded from the other end of the room. Damn, I had liked being alone.

"No. There was a, uh . . . cellist, I think."

Rogers started walking towards me, and I noticed with surprise that Sam wasn't trailing after him like a lost puppy. "Where's Sammy?" I asked, turning to face the Captain.

"She said she had something to do," Rogers replied. "She told me how she got to be on this ship."

I stayed silent, hoping he would go on.

"She burned down a school and caused an earthquake in Chicago."

"Ah," I pointed my finger at him, remembering something. "I read about that earthquake. It was a big one in a small area. Not much damage, though, except for the school that was destroyed. I hadn't realized Sammy was directly involved."

"Were there any deaths?" Rogers' brow furrowed.

"I don't know. The article wasn't interesting enough for me to read past the picture." Rogers sighed in annoyance.

"But seriously," I added, wandering away, "how's she doing?"

"She's better now. I had a long talk with her."

"Of course you did," I muttered under my breath.

"Excuse me?" Rogers said in that tone of voice people use when they know exactly what you just said.

"Why does she always come to you?" I turned around to face the soldier. "Why are you always her first choice?"

He sighed. "Your heart may be in the right place, Stark, but it's your mouth that gets you in trouble. She thinks of me as an older brother. It's as simple as that."

"But what about me? Why doesn't she come to me?"

"Is that jealousy I detect, Mr. Stark?"

"Well yes, yes it is," I glared at him. "Why does she like you so much more than me? How could _anyone_ like _you_ over _me_?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"No."

He sighed. "You may feel protective around her, Stark, but you don't _act_ like you do. The difference between you and me is that while you may _want_ to be there for her, I'm the one who actually _is_ there for her."

"Are you saying I should stalk her so that I know when she's about to break down again?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"Look, 'Big Brother'. _I'm_ the one who rescued Sammy. I'm the one who stayed up late last night, talking to her. You're right; I do feel protective around her. Almost like she's my daughter or something," I made a disgusted face.

"Why do you even care, Stark?" the Captain questioned. "You're Tony Stark. As I said this morning, all you care about is yourself."

"That's the point," I shook my head at him. "Sammy reminds me of myself; she's just a lot more innocent. That's probably why I feel like a father to her."

"Look, Stark," Rogers leaned against the wall. "I think it's great that you're actually showing real emotion for once. Really. But if you want to act like her dad, then you need to start hanging around more. Talking to her. Heaven knows she needs a real dad," he shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I sniffed, holding my nose high in the air. Steve proceeded to recount the story (that Sam had told to _him_, of course) of how she had gotten her powers.

"You'd be a better father than her _actual_ dad," Rogers finished. "And that's saying something, because you're a terrible person. But you made a costume for her and gave her a name. That's more than anyone else has ever done."

I took a slight, mocking bow.

"But the day you sacrifice yourself for someone else – _the day you lay down on a wire and let someone else crawl over you_," he referenced our old conversation, "will be the day she'll think of you as a father. Basically, that'll be never."

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a bit peeved. "I'm a role model," the Captain went on. "I've trained her and listened to her recount her story. I'm the one who has saved her ass whenever she's been in trouble. Maybe if you did that stuff she'd think of you as a dad, like she thinks of me as a brother now."

"Please, spare me the details," I held up my hand to stop the tirade of words. "I get what you're saying. Now shut your mouth for the next decade."

Rogers crossed his heavily-muscled arms over his chest. "Stark?" he started. "Can we drop the nonsense fighting? Maybe we can actually be partners – or _friends – _for a change?"

I looked at him as if he was insane.

"We're supposed to be on the same team," he pointed out, "and yet, we're two people who shouldn't even be in the same _room_ together. Now, isn't that the definition of family?"

"I don't know if that's some weird World War II joke, but-"

Rogers shook his head, smiling crookedly. "No, I meant it."

"Then your dictionary is really messed up."

He narrowed his eyes. "Can't we please just try and get along for a few minutes?"

"It's like Banner said," I raised my eyebrows at him. "We're not a team. We're a time bomb."

"So let's change that! Coulson believed in us – he believed that we could work together. So if you won't cooperate for _me_, do it for _him_. Please . . . Tony."

I rubbed my eyes, raising my shoulders up near my ears. "Fine . . . Freedom Pants."

He sighed. "You're never going to give me a different nickname, are you? Even if we magically became best friends, you would still call me that."

I ignored the fact that it wasn't even a question. "Yup."

All this talking about Coulson made me think of the poor guy's death again. As Cap said, he had probably been the only person who had believed in us. We didn't even believe in ourselves. But Coulson _had_ been pretty disillusioned.

Apparently, Captain was thinking of him too. "I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man."

I snorted. "He was an idiot."

"Why? For believing?" Captain snapped. Jeez, that guy saw the best in _everybody_.

"For taking on Loki alone," I said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was.

"He was doing his job."

"He was out of his league. He should have waited. He should have . . ."

"Sometimes there isn't a way out, Tony," I couldn't help but catch notice of the use of my first name.

"Right. And how did that work out for him?" I frowned.

"Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?"

That snapped me. "We are _not_ soldiers!" I yelled, but then realized who I was talking to – _the soldier. _Wow, I'm good. "I'm not marching to Fury's fife," I tried to cover up.

"Neither am I," Rogers said in that typical anal way of his. "He's got the same blood on his hands that Loki does, but right now we've got to put that behind us and get this done. Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list . . ."

"He made it personal," I suddenly realized as I stared at the wall.

"That's not the point," the blonde moron in front of me said.

"That is the point. _That's_ Loki's point," I stressed. "He hit us all right where we live. Why?"

"To tear us apart." Ha, finally this guy was making some sense.

"He had to conquer his greed, but he knows he has to take us out to win, right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us; he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience."

"Right. I caught his act in Stuttgart."

"Yeah. That's just previews, this is . . . this is opening night. And Loki, he's a full-tail diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered-"

I stopped talking. _Loki wanted to use Stark Tower_ – it was all so obvious now! Why hadn't I seen it before? And why hadn't I seen how I was just like him . . . how I had wanted a monument built to the sky with _my_ name on it? That bastard stole my idea!

"Sonofabitch," I swore, as Rogers caught on. We looked at each other with newfound understanding dawning on our faces.

A new voice suddenly echoed throughout the room. "So? Are we going yet, or what?"

Rogers turned, and at the same time we both saw Sam standing behind him. Except . . . it wasn't Sam. It was Masquerade.

She was wearing the black-and-purple suit I had designed for her, and to my delight, it looked fantastic. It fit her, I could tell, as it hugged her body in all the right places but still appeared to be comfortable. She had everything on, from the boots to the gloves to the costume. Well, everything except the Venetian mask. She was holding that delicate thing in her hand, the ribbons hanging in the air.

A smile broke across my face, and pride snuck its way into my heart. I really could see her as a daughter in this moment.

"Let's get a move-on to Manhattan, shall we?" Rogers – _Steve – _raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of us. Sammy grinned right back at me, if somewhat shyly and reluctantly.

"Tony, you need to go get your suit fixed up for a short flight to Stark Tower," he said. "I'll find Romanoff and we'll catch a ride on one of the planes. Sam, you come -"

He suddenly stopped, his eyes trailing to me. I knew what he was going to say – "you come with me" – but at the last minute, he changed tactics. "You go with Tony," he nodded, his face unreadable.

If I was anyone but myself, I would've given him a thankful smile. Maybe the Captain wasn't such a bad old man after all. He was giving me a chance to talk to Sam.

And what was this crap him being a "brother" to her? Shouldn't he technically be a grandfather?

He turned to go one direction, and Sammy and I went in the other. She glanced up and me, smiling shyly. "Thanks for the suit," the young blonde said reluctantly.

"You gonna wear the mask?"

"Yeah," she said, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than me. "Can you . . . can you help me put it on?"

"Can you tell me why you're on the Helicarrier?" I retorted. "Like you told Captain?"

She grimaced. "Yeah, I guess I should tell you too. You've been a good friend to me, Tony," she hit me playfully on the arm.

As we walked back to the hanger with my suit, she retold her story. Once in the hanger – while she was narrating the part about the school – she lifted her hair, and I tied the mask around the back of her head with a double knot. It took us a while to assure it wouldn't fall off, but soon enough, she was wearing her entire superhero costume. And I must admit, she looked phenomenal.

"I didn't get a choice," she sighed, finishing up her tale. "I didn't get to pick whether or not I became a superhero."

"It's kind of hard to think of you as a non-hero when you're wearing your Masquerade outfit," I pointed out, and she giggled.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry." She paused briefly. "So . . . what's the battle plan?"

"Well, my guess is that Loki's probably built the Tesseract-portal-opener-thing on the roof of Stark Tower, in Manhattan," I shrugged. "I'm going to go in there and attempt to turn it off."

"'Attempt'?"

"If it doesn't work, the portal will open, and then we'll have to fight an entire army of aliens. You up for the challenge?"

She took a deep breath, no longer smiling. "I guess. I just hope I don't make things worse."

I shrugged, trying to piece my helmet back together. The electricity in it still wasn't working from when I had practically been shredded earlier that day. "Just set the aliens on fire. Cause an earthquake if there are too many of them on the ground. Do whatever you need to in order to stay alive," I nodded vigorously. "But try not to kill any of the good guys."

She snorted, playing with one of my tools and humming a song. I listened to her for a little bit, but the suspense was killing me. "What song is that?"

She blushed. "Iron Man, by Black Sabbath. It's my and my brother's favorite song."

"Of course it is. It _was_ written about me."

"Um, I'm pretty sure your Iron Man didn't exist when the song was written," she rolled her eyes, smiling. "But I like your shirt."

"What shirt am I wearing?" I asked, looking down as Sammy laughed. It was my Black Sabbath shirt, of course. I was all about the irony - you know, I was Iron Man, they had that Iron Man song. And it was 'irony' (okay, enough terrible nonsense puns now).

Sam let out a cry of surprise. "Look!" she exclaimed, pointing at my helmet as the light in the eyes flickered back to life. I smiled at her as she gaped in awe.

"Things will be okay. You'll see," I poked her in the ribs with my elbow. "But now . . . it's time to suit up."

* * *

**A/N: ****WHOOO! WE MADE IT TO 100 REVIEWS! Thanks so, so much guys :3 This is more than I could ever hope for, and I appreciate it more than I can say. I love all of you, from the readers to the reviewers! Thanks to each and every one of you for showing an interest in my story :3 Your reception has been _amazing._**

**This was kind of a filler chapter, but ah well. The big battle is next! And good news - I finished writing this story! I'll be starting on the sequel as soon as possible :P Remember to check out the website for pictures (remove the spaces): lexiblazefanfiction . webs . com**

**I try to respond to every signed review I get! Anonymous reviews _are _accepted, but please, no flames. As always, extra thanks to my wonderful, faithful reviewers: _AdelphiBahana, Little Weasley Girl, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, Tbonechick2011, PrincessNerd, Jen Lennon, Invader Ivy, HannajimaShields, A Contradiction, booklover1498, Comiccrazygothgirl, brandibuckeye, LaughingLadybug,_ and _jaa162_! **

**Everyone seems to be wanting to hug Sam LOL so if you review, you can get a hug from her XD Ahaha. READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Alexa**


	12. Danger and Opportunity

Sam Silverman's POV

_When written in Chinese the word "crisis" is composed of two characters - one represents danger and the_ _other represents opportunity - John F. Kennedy_

Okay, now we're getting to the good stuff.

I didn't know how, but Captain (Steve was in his Captain America suit with the helmet on, so he insisted I called him Captain), Agent Romanoff (the ginger lady) and Cupid on Steroids had secured a plane. It was a Quinjet, actually, whatever _that_ thing was.

We got ready quickly – at a faster pace than I was comfortable with. Cap was a soldier, Tony was, well, Tony, and the two others were spies. They were used to rushing into action like this. I was a bit unsteadier, unsure of what I was doing.

Tony got into his Iron Man suit as I was quickly introduced to the two spies. "This is Agent Clint Barton," Captain introduced Cupid on Steroids. "Barton, this is Samantha Silverman, a super in training. Fury's sent her to be a part of the Avengers."

Barton stared hard at me. "Did I . . . ?"

"Yes, you bastard, you tried to fucking kill me this morning," I snapped, feeling annoyed that he had gone from "bad guy" to "ally" so quickly. He looked completely taken aback, uttering a soft "sorry" before sitting down in the pilot's seat and getting the Quinjet ready for take-off. I guess I didn't have to snap at him – I didn't know his full story and why he had done what he did – but I couldn't help myself. I was tired, hungry, sore, and I had a headache. They could've cut me some slack.

"I'm Agent Natasha Romanoff," the ginger lady introduced herself. She was quite pretty, I noticed, and I smiled at her friendly-looking face.

"What do people call you?" I asked. "Nat? Tasha? Tashie? Tash?"

"They call me Agent Romanoff."

"Tasha it is!"

Tony came out in his Iron Man suit then. I realized with a jolt that we were, quite literally, wading into a war. What if one of us died – or if _I_ died?

I ran out to Tony, throwing my arms around the big metal suit and hugging him. "Thanks," I mumbled. "You know, for . . . taking care of me. For acting like . . . like a father. Sort of."

"Ugh, please, keep the gushy sentiments away from me," he snorted, but I could tell he was pleased. "I'll see you guys down there," he nodded at Cap, putting on his helmet and flying off.

I turned back to the Captain, fear filling my expression. He reached out his hand to me, welcoming me aboard the Quinjet with a gentle expression on his face.

In truth, I was terrified. I didn't know what to expect, and quite frankly, I wanted to live to see tomorrow. It was just like I had told Steve and Tony the night before – what if my only reaction was to stand there and scream? What if I screwed things up? I wasn't trained for this; I was a seventeen-year-old girl who was being thrown into the middle of a war.

But despite all my worries and doubts, I still took Captain's hand, affording a sad smile up at him.

We stood in the back of the jet as Barton flew us off, Tasha in the co-pilot seat. I clutched Cap's hand tightly, probably squeezing the life out of it. But he reached out and hugged me to his chest, so I assumed it was okay.

"I'm scared," I murmured as the jet roared through the sky, towards the island of Manhattan.

"It'll be okay," Cap said, and I could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "Stay near me, all right? We'll stay safe."

"Yeah, but I don't want to drag you down," I frowned. "I'll just be preventing you from doing your job."

We were silent for a few more minutes, before I spoke again. "You know, I always thought superheroes were perfect. But then I met you guys."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve sounded slightly offended.

"Well, Tony's awfully selfish," I admitted. "And Thor may be brave, but he's got a flaw — he's arrogant. All of you guys may be valiant and courageous and kind and brave and all that shit, but you've all got your own fatal flaws. It makes you more . . . human. Except for Thor, of course, since he'd a god and all," I shrugged to myself.

"What about me? What's my flaw?" Cap asked, his face remaining blank.

I looked up at him, resting my chin on his chest. "Well, you're the noble one," I said, "but you're too serious."

"Too serious?" Cap raised his eyebrows, smiling a bit. "You think I'm too serious?"

I giggled, taking a step back and letting go of his hand. "Yep. No offense," I quickly added.

He shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Well, you may be loyal, but you're stuck-up, too," he winked.

A normal person's reaction would be to freak out about the "stuck-up" insult - but it was Cap's compliment that really got to me. "You think I'm loyal?" I asked in surprise.

He nodded. "This morning, you knocked that agent off the Helicarrier in order to save me and Tony. And rather than fighting back and protecting yourself," he added, "you spent your energy offering to help me up. While Tony may be self-preserving, you, Miss Silverman, are the opposite. My guess is that you'll end up doing something completely insane today that'll actually be an attempt to save our lives."

I blushed, flattered. "Thanks, Cap," a smile spread across my face.

Just then, the Quinjet shook violently. I hadn't been watching what was going on — I was too afraid – but my best guess was that we'd been hit by something.

The Quinjet spiraled out of control and I was thrown around the back like some sort of doll. Noticing that Cap had grabbed on to a ceiling bar, I did the same just as the jet shook violently, flying in strange patterns.

I must've looked like I was going to throw up, because Cap shouted "You okay?" I didn't dare open my mouth to answer him, though. I knew that, without a doubt, if I opened my mouth to say something, all that would come out would be a scream. And then I wouldn't be able to _stop_ screaming.

So I kept my jaw clenched tight as we fell out of the sky, crash-landing on a street in the middle of Manhattan. By the time the door to the jet opened and Captain stepped out into the daylight . . . the war was already going strong.

Tasha, Barton, Cap and I stood outside the Quinjet, surveying the chaos before us. Cars littered the street and civilians ran screaming in all directions; police sirens whooped and alarms made my ears ring. Overhead, countless flying _things_ zoomed past, making strange noises and emitting bursts of blue light.

"Those must be the aliens," Barton pointed up at the zooming creatures. "We're up against an _army_."

"Thor's here," I suddenly heard Tony's voice crackle in my ear. He had set us all up with earpieces and microphones, so that we could talk with each other during the battle.

Something made our group of four look up. There it was, the portal in the sky – the big gaping hole leading right into space. Through it flew dozens, hundreds even, of alien warriors – and now, what looked like the boss of the level.

It was a giant worm-thing, with teeth the size of buildings and armor made of dull silver metal. The beast roared, and I flinched, already terrified.

The flying alien worm-thing came towards us, knocking into buildings as warriors jumped off its back and latched onto the sides of walls. I trembled, feeling about ready to piss my pants as more threats zoomed overhead.

"Stark, are you seeing this?" Captain shouted, his voice right in my ear.

"I'm seeing . . . still working on believing. Where's Banner? Has he shown up yet?" Tony responded.

"Banner?" Cap asked, sounding surprised.

Tony's answer was short. "Just keep me posted."

I gasped, whipping around as there were loud _thuds_ behind us. A fairly large group of the hideous alien creatures stood on the ground, advancing quickly and menacingly. Now . . . now was the time. It was my last chance to turn back.

But with Cap's presence beside me, so brave and noble and _comforting_, I found it hard to doubt myself.

I didn't even think about it – didn't freak like I had when I had killed the agent on the Helicarrier. I just lit the bastards up.

Raising my hands, I knocked a whole ton of them back with wind, affording us more time. Barton got out his arrows, reminding me of a male Katniss Everdeen (yes, I was a Hunger Games nerd) as Tasha started shooting at the aliens with her pistols. Cap and that amazing shield of his dove right into the action; he didn't even think about the potential consequences and his own life.

Slowly, we became more separated as we made our way further down the street. The two assassins by my side were doing fine – kicking asses like no one's business. Cap, as a soldier, knew exactly what he was doing. But me? I was just trying not to get hurt. I bet I was finding it the most difficult out of all of us.

An alien exploded into flames to my right as I pushed one off my back with wind, whipping around to kick it. Sweat was already pouring down my face and my mask was slipping off, but I was fighting for my life here – I didn't have time to worry about my appearance.

I wasn't in great physical shape, either. Sure, I had played basketball at school, but I wasn't a particularly fast runner or anything. The adrenaline was probably all that kept me going that afternoon; I couldn't feel the pulsing soreness and exhaustion in my body.

We finished off the first round of aliens quickly. I stood there panting, feeling ready to shit my pants as Cap ran up.

"Are you okay?" he asked, poking me with his shield.

"Yeah," I replied breathlessly. "I think so. You?"

He shrugged. "Don't worry about me. I'm doing fine."

I pressed a hand to my heaving chest as a new bout of aliens landed on the ground in front of us. "We need a plan, Captain. I can't go on like this, just randomly fighting whatever happens to appear."

He was looking the other way, though, down underneath the bridge we were standing on. In the street below, civilians were running around like chickens without their heads. "They're fish in a barrel down there," he muttered under his breath.

_Fine, ignore me,_ I thought bitterly, but I wasn't actually that upset. "Well, you're the Captain," I sighed, lighting a Chitauri on fire as it ran towards us. "What're we gonna do?"

He looked back at me then, determination in his eyes. "We go down there and get them off the streets. You go now and help get people underground or in buildings. I'll join you in a few minutes."

"What? Why? Where are you going?" I asked, eyes wide as Cap threw his shield at a Chitauri creeping up behind me.

"I'm going to take control of the situation up here, and then tell Romanoff and Barton what to do. They'll hold off the army while we save civilians. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" I exclaimed, my heart trembling in my chest as he sprinted off without a moment's hesitation. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I flexed my fingers, rolling them into fists and then back out again.

"Here goes nothing," I murmured, and then ran for the side of the bridge.

I jumped off it ungracefully, landing on my side on the roof of a taxi with an 'oof'. I had kind of thought that some primal instinct would've kicked in and I would've done a ninja roll in the air or something – obviously, I was wrong. But luckily I hadn't harmed myself, and I got right back up and scrambled down the side of the car.

Something shot at me from behind, and I screamed, diving to the side to avoid the explosion that followed. A Chitauri speeder flew past overhead, and in anger, I knocked them out of the sky with wind. A breeze whipped around my hair as I sprinted through the maze of cars, towards the large group of people huddled in the street.

Okay, even I have to admit that I'm a pretty good public speaker. I don't get nervous when speaking in front of crowds. And this time was no different – climbing up to stand on top of another taxi, I shouted out, getting the group's attention.

"Hey, morons!" I cried, waving my arms. Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best thing to say, but at least it got their attention. "New York City is under attack. Well, obviously," I added as I heard an explosion somewhere behind me. "Your best bet for safety is to go underground, to the subway. Hole up in there until things quiet down." I pointed over their heads at an entrance to the underground subway. "Please, in a calm and orderly manner, go down there. Don't scream, or push each other," I pleaded. "We're all in the same boat here."

"Who're you?" some random business woman in the front of the crowd asked, as half of them sprinted for the subway entrance in a not-so-calm-and-orderly manner.

"Sa-" I started to say my name, but then checked myself. "Masquerade," I said, a bit proud that I had a superhero name already.

A man with a news camera ran up. "Are you with the invaders?" he shouted up at me.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Do you think that question is really appropriate for ri-?"

There was an explosion directly behind me, and the force of it knocked me off my feet. I went tumbling down the side of the car and fell to the ground heavily. Groaning, I pulled myself up; the sounds of more Chitauri blasts reached my ears.

"Listen up, random camera guy," I pointed straight into the lens of his news camera. "My name is Masquerade, and I'm here with the Avengers. We're here to _save_ this city, not destroy it. So if you value your life – and if anyone watching this wants to survive," I peered right into the camera, knowing that this was probably on a lot of TV screens right now, "they'll go underground into the subway. Just stay off the streets!" I shouted as another blast completely knocked over a nearby car, sending it spinning through the air.

The camera managed to catch everything that happened next. I lifted my hand, sending a gust of wind right at a circling Chitauri hovercraft. It went crashing to the ground, the aliens squealing. There were three of them, and they came straight towards me, spear-gun-things held at the ready. I set the first alien on fire, holding my hand out in the way Tony does with his repulsor beams. The second one shot at me, but the blue light missed and instead blew up a wall. A breeze kicked up and knocked the gun out of his hand and he, too, caught on fire.

By this time, the third Chitauri was almost upon me, and I ended up having to throw punches and quite a few kicks to keep him from decapitating me. In the end, I smashed him against a car, using wind to hold him there as Captain America ran past, a blur of blue, red and white.

"Cap!" I shouted. "I've gotten most of the civilians down underground – can you get the police force to round up everyone else?"

"Already on it!" he shouted as another flying alien ship shot at him; I knocked it, too, out of the air with wind.

That was when I turned back to find the cameraman still standing there, recording everything. "You idiot!" I yelled. "Turn it off, and get your fat ass to safety!"

"Yeah, ye-" he started, but was stopped by a Chitauri that came up behind him. Before the alien could even lay one of his six fingers on the chubby cameraman, I flicked my hand out and sent the creature flying backwards into a wall, spontaneously combusting at the same time.

"T-thanks," Camera Guy stuttered, looking pale. "Y-you saved my life," he said in a disbelieving voice.

"Yeah, and I won't do it again! _Get underground_!" I shouted in his pudgy face.

He scrambled over to the entrance of the subway, but then stopped and turned around. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Masquerade," I took a deep breath.

"And the people you worked for?"

"I don't work for anyone," I pushed my mask further up my nose. "But I _am_ part of a team called The Avengers."

He nodded once, and then disappeared. I had to admit, that guy was persistent at his job.

I don't know how much time passed after that. It could've been minutes, but it also could've been hours. Banner arrived sometime in the middle, turning into the Jolly Green Giant and destroying one of the worm things. I found that it wasn't actually "the boss" – there were too many of them to be the actual leaders of the army. I've watched enough horror movies and sci-fi flicks to know that there was probably a mothership up in space somewhere. And that was very, very bad. We could hardly handle this part of the army as it was.

Cap, Tasha and I ended up as the last remaining agents on the ground. Tony was on perimeter duty, Hulk was, um, hulking out, Thor was electrocuting everything that came through the portal, and Barton was picking off the agents in the air with his arrows from atop a building.

I was finding that when I didn't think – when let my instincts take over – I was actually doing okay. My adrenaline rush still hadn't worn out, and I hadn't pissed my pants in sheer terror (yet). Just so long as I kept moving and kept fighting, I was okay.

Eventually, things started to go wrong. The Chitauri were overpowering Tasha, Cap and me. I started to get really, really scared – even more so than before. And just as Cap had predicted, that was when I went and did something completely desperate and completely insane.

The thought had already been forming in my head, but I only acted on it now that we were being beaten. I ditched Cap's side (to his confusion), running away from the battle. "Hey!" I heard Tasha shout from behind me, but I just kept running. A few Chitauri shot at me, but I didn't even turn around to deal with them.

I must've looked like a deserter, or a betrayer. For all they knew, I could be running off to join Loki in his crusade to dominate the world. But no – I was doing something much _stupider_.

As I pushed my mask further up my nose, I spotted what I was looking for. Back when I was leading people into the underground, I had noticed it just _sitting there_, around the corner and a ways down the street. It beckoned to me now; a promise that I could kill off a whole ton of Chitauri in one hit.

Basically, I was staring at a petrol tanker.

I'm hoping you know what a petrol tanker is. Basically, it's a truck with a huge, long silver tank attached to the back – a tank filled with gas. You know - that fancy stuff that powers your car.

And explodes when lit on fire.

I sprinted to it, and even then, it took me a while to get there. I kept having to dodge the debris in the road, leaping over random things and skirting around cars. When I reached the tanker, the first thing I did was climb up the ladder at the back. I opened up the hatch on the top of the tank, and stuck my nose in, sniffing to make sure there was actually _gas_ in there.

I pulled my head back out immediately, wheezing and coughing and spitting. _Yep_, that thing was definitely _filled_ with petrol. My eyes watered as I jumped back down the ladder and ran around to the driver's door.

I flung it open, relieved to find the keys still in the ignition. The driver had probably scrambled out of the truck as soon as the invasion started, not even bothering to take his keys with him. Typical truck driver.

When I switched on the ignition a continuous beep began sounding, and it made me nearly jump out of my skin. A red warning brake light started flashing, and I waited for it to go off, but it didn't. I sighed, gritting my teeth and clutching the wheel so tightly my fingers felt like they were going to fall off. It looked like I would be driving with brakes that didn't work. Well, it's not like my mission was entirely safe in the first place. I wasn't even going to put a seatbelt on (oh, wasn't I a rebel).

I started the engine, and it throbbed into immediate life. To my astonishment, the warning beep and the flashing light both stopped. I groaned in frustration, banging my head on the wheel and making the horn blare loudly – _air brakes._ Of course. They had to build up pressure or something. I'd never driven with them before, but I knew that they would make it easier for me to stop. Not that I was going to wait for a red light to change or anything.

I had a lot of trouble finding first gear, having to pump the clutch a few times to get it. I was trembling so badly that I could barely get a firm grip on the clutch, which I eased out. The prime mover jerked, took up the strain of the trailer, and finally crept forward.

The tanker rolled forward lazily, complying with my demands. A few strands of blonde hair fell in front of my eyes, but I ignored them as I realized how careful I was going to need to be. If I made a wrong move, the whole tanker would explode.

That was when I ran into my second problem: the cars littering the streets, blocking my path. I needed to drive down an entire block, turn a corner, and then drive down another block before I got to where all the Chitauri were. How the hell was I going to do that with all these random, empty cars everywhere?

In retrospect, I probably could've moved them all with wind. But at the time, I wasn't thinking straight – so I did something much more dangerous and drastic.

Clenching my teeth, I leaned over the steering wheel, staring hard at the road. Slowly I raised my shaking hands, squinting as sweat poured down my face.

The ground started the shake. Gently, slowly, quietly – but it was still _shaking_. I was trying to _control_ my earthquake power.

The rumbling of the ground grew stronger as cars slid to either side of the road. I knew it was time to stop by the time I was literally bouncing up and down in my seat, but not from excitement – from the earthquake. Enough cars had shifted off the road to create a clear path around the corner.

I lowered my hands slowly, and the earthquake stopped. I had actually done it – controlled my power. SUCK THAT, FURY! I _wasn't _entirely unstable!

"Tony? Cap?" I said, knowing they'd be able to hear me through their earpieces.

Cap's voice crackled to life in my ear. "Masquerade? Where'd you go?" My stomach still squirmed to hear someone call me that.

". . . . . I have a plan."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, I'm going to have to make this quick :) I don't own the Avengers or any related characters, except for my OC, Sam/Masquerade. Also, check out the website for pictures (remove the spaces): lexiblazefanfiction . webs . com. You have to type the address into the URL bar; it won't come up if you Google-search it.**

**Thanks to all the wonderful, amazing people who read and reviewed last chapter! I love all you guys so much :D My exams are done now, so I can spend more time writing the sequel! WHOO! Anyway, special thanks to the reviewers: _YoursTruly13, A Contradiction, Alice Blu, Jen Lennon, GoForTehGig, Little Weasley Girl, Tbonechick2011, brandibuckeye, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, Comiccrazygothgirl, Hannajimashields _and _Invader Ivy_! Thanks, guys, from the bottom of my heart! **

**Until next time, where I shall wrap up the battle! READERS ASSEMBLE, and please leave a review, telling me what you think!**

**- Lexi**


	13. The Valiant

Steve Rogers' POV

_Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once - William Shakespeare_

"I have a plan," Sam's voice crackled through the speaker in my ear, and my stomach dropped. This couldn't be good. It was _never _good when someone uttered those words.

Thor, who I was fighting alongside, gave me a knowing look as I threw my shield and knocked down a few of the bastard aliens. I'd already been through a lot in this war – thrown out of a bank window with a grenade, shot at, knocked down over and over, had my face kicked into the dirt, you name it. I wasn't getting tired, but I _was_ getting sore – time was taking its toll on me. And the aliens were starting to overpower us. I didn't know how much longer we would be able to hold out for.

"Sam, I can see what you're doing, and it's a terrible idea," Tony warned, flying around the corner and shooting at some of the aliens surrounding me. "I'm warning you, get out right now."

"Get out of what?" I questioned. Thor looked over at me, a crease between his eyebrows as he effortlessly swung his hammer at a few warriors.

"Thor can fly, right?"

"Uh, not really," Tony responded to Sam's question.

"Yeah, but he can swing his hammer around and then fly through the air."

"Technically, yes," Thor answered in his deep, booming voice. I heard Sam take a deep breath.

"Okay. Awesome. Here's the plan," she started, sounding anxious. "I'm going to come barreling towards you all in a gas tanker."

"A _what_-?" I cried, pausing in my attack on the aliens to press my earpiece further into my ear to make sure I had heard correctly. "You're not actually . . ."

"She _is_, actually," Tony's cool voice responded. "She's already rolling down the neighboring street at an incredibly dangerous velocity for a gas tanker of that size."

"Oh, shush," she sounded cross. "There's a shit-ton of aliens where Cap and Thor are, and we both know they're getting their asses whooped. Cap and Thor, I mean," she clarified, and I frowned as I punched another warrior in the face.

"We're doing swell!" Thor cried, obviously upset at her insult.

"Sammy's right about one thing," Tony's voice interjected. "About 67% of all the aliens are on the same street as you two."

"Don't call me Sammy."

"Alright, sorry. _Sammy_."

I could almost hear Sam grit her teeth together.

"Here's how it's gonna work," she went on. "I'm going to drive right into the throng of things – right into the middle of the alien mosh pit. Thor, you're going to fly away with your hammer as soon as you can. Tony, can you come down and grab Cap?"

"Why me?" both Tony and I exclaimed at the same time.

Sam let out a little scream of frustration, and I heard the honk of a truck horn – she had probably banged her hands (or her head) against the steering wheel in annoyance. "Because Cap can't fucking fly, all right? And I don't want him to get blown up!" She took another deep, irritated breath. "And then as you fly away, Tony – WITH CAP – can you turn back and shoot the truck so the gas explodes?"

"It will be my genuine pleasure," Tony responded sarcastically.

"What about you?" I asked, kicking an alien between the legs.

"I'll take care of myself."

"HOW? You're not suicide bombing, are you?"

"No!" Sam cried, as I leaned against a taxi to take a quick breather. A few minutes ago, I had been blasted with one of the fancy alien weapons, and now my entire left side felt like it was on fire. Blood poured out of the wound, and I pressed my hand to it, trying to stem the blood flow.

"I was going to . . . I was going to try something," her voice was nervous. "I was thinking of that wall of wind I had made when Tony dropped me. If I concentrate, I think I can conjure up a wall like that again – except maybe, I can fly. With wind."

"This is a horrible plan," Tony said before I could get a word in. "You don't know if it will work!"

"Just trust me, okay? Please? I can . . . I can do this." I threw my shield at an oncoming alien, saying nothing.

The silver gas tanker came roaring around the corner at that point, and I spotted Sam behind the wheel, a determined look on her face. There was a large cut over one of her eyes, and blood was seeping out of it and dripping over her mask, but she didn't seem to notice. Probably too much adrenaline and anxiety.

"It's too late to turn back now," she said, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

It must've been hard to turn the sharp corner, because the tank swung out behind the truck wildly, barely grazing the side of a building. Sparks flew as metal screeched against metal, and I found myself holding my breath as I watched the near-catastrophe.

"Thor, now would be a good time to leave!" Sam screamed as the truck came closer. By now, Sam was less than half a block away from the alien army, and she didn't slow down as she barreled right towards us relentlessly. Thor swung his hammer, taking off towards the top of a nearby building.

"Tony!" she cried, signaling for him to swoop in and pick me up. But as Tony rounded the corner, flying high above us, my eyes were locked on Sam. She jerked the steering wheel sharply to the left, and the entire truck skidded across the pavement quickly. It was too quick, though. She flung open the driver's door to jump out, just as the petrol tanker started to tip over.

I don't know what she was planning to do – probably jump out of the cab and roll on the ground, like a cross between a ninja and Agent Romanoff. But Sam was a 17-year-old girl with no training whatsoever – Fury had been an _idiot_ by sending her onto the battlefield.

From what I gathered, the jump to the ground was larger than Sam had suspected. She landed hard on her ankle and it rolled as she tumbled heavily to the pavement below, skidding across it. Her head _bounced_ on the ground, literally bounced, as she rolled on her side, looking like a broken doll – or a mess of tangled limbs.

Sam came to a stop on the ground, unmoving as she laid spread out on her side, blonde hair spilling across the pavement. It took me a split second to realize she was unconscious, and thus, she wouldn't be able to "fly" herself out of there.

And the petrol tanker was still tipping over, about to roll.

"Cap?" Tony's voice sounded unsure, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him still heading straight for me.

"Just leave! Go without me!" I shouted, springing to action as I kicked an alien back. It only took me a few steps to get to Sam's body, but they were a long few steps. I felt as if I was moving through wet cement. "But on my command, Tony, shoot the gas tanker!"

Reaching Sam, I skidded to a stop, staying low to the ground as I grabbed her around the waist and ran for the nearest building wall. Her body was limp in my arms as I tried to curl her up against my chest, keeping her head protected under my chin. "_NOW!"_

That was when the gas tanker hit the ground with a sickening THUD – and a split second later Tony shot at it.

To this day, I still don't know how we survived that explosion. I know my shield had a large part to do with it, of course; I had held it between our bodies and the explosion as we huddled against the wall. Thank God the shield was vibration absorbent – who knows how much debris came flying at us, or how much pressure the explosion must've put on the shield. But I'll never forget the deafening noise and heat and smell, all mixed together to create something that would've scared even the most fearless man. I buried my face in Sam's hair, afraid to look up as the explosion rocked around us.

Maybe it was like Thor's hammer – just some random phenomenon I couldn't explain. I didn't know why Mjolnir hadn't broken my shield, just as I didn't know why my shield had protected us from the explosion – why we survived at all.

Because survive we did. It took me a minute or two to unclench my muscles, after I realized the explosion was over. I stood up in awe, admiring the devastation left behind.

Not a single alien was left. The cars in the street were either nothing or charred remains, and a few things were on fire. Some chunks of walls had fallen away and fires now burned in a building or two . . . but we had obliterated over half of the enemy's ground army.

Sam was still slumped in my arms, unconscious. Her mask was slipping off her face, and gently I fixed it to cover her cheekbones again. Her head lolled uselessly on her shoulders, and her ankle looked pretty banged-up. The cut above her eyebrow was still bleeding heavily . . . but when I put my ear to her chest, her heart was still beating loud and clear.

I threw her over my shoulder and started off at a sprint down the street, towards where I knew the others would be. "Guys? Thor? Tony? Anyone?" I kept saying into my microphone, wondering why they weren't responding.

It took a good five minutes to realize that they _were_ talking back – I just couldn't hear them due to the ringing in my ears, left over from the deafening noise of the explosion. "GODDAMMIT CAPTAIN, WE CAN ALL FUCKING HEAR YOU," Tony was screaming into the earpiece by the time my hearing started to come back.

"Oh. Sorry," I said, frowning. "Is everyone alright?"

"Yes, yes, we're fine. What about you? And Sam? What happened back there?" Tony asked, calming down a bit, but still rushing his words.

I recounted the story quickly, and as I did, I walked right into another battle between Thor and some more warriors. Gently dumping Sam on the ground, she was just starting to wake up as I ran to join Thor.

The aliens were no match for us now that their numbers had thinned. Thor threw Mjolnir at a car, knocking the car into an advancing line of warriors as I punched one in the face, knocking him back. Another shot at me, and I blocked the blue beam with my shield; I jumped forward and kicked the gun out of his hands. I had already been shot once today, and I didn't want to be hit again.

To my surprise, there were still civilians in this street. An old man was helping two young children – probably his grandkids – through the chaos. There were a few other people, too, following his directions to "get in 'that' building."

A Chitauri hovership flew overhead, and one of the foul aliens dropped down, right into the middle of the crowd of people. It made a threatening noise at the old man, about to leap forward and kill him.

Not with me around, though.

I threw my shield, knocking the alien over; as I snatched the rebounding, circular shield out of the air, I ran towards the Chitauri, kicking it in the face and then picking it up and throwing it right through a taxi. I motioned for the group of civilians to get into the building, and they looked up at me gratefully. I was just about to run and find Thor again when the old man stopped me.

"_Cap_? Is that really . . . is that really you?" his weathered voice asked, and I turned to find him staring at me. There was a badge pinned to the lapel of his jacket – _World War II Veteran_, it said.

His face suddenly broke into a smile, and he saluted me. I couldn't help but grin back, returning the salute. And then I turned and ran off, back to doing my duty as super soldier.

"LOKI ALERT!" Tony shouted, his voice crackling in my earpiece, and I looked up to see the god zooming overhead on an alien hovercraft. Loki dropped down a little ways down the street from me - near to where Sam was just getting to her feet.

She cried out in pain as he backhanded her across the face, and she tripped to the ground. Angry but not cowed, Sam raised her hand and set the bottom of Loki's robes on fire. He panicked, running around in a tiny circle before figuring out he needed to pat them down.

"You insolent little girl!" he cried, pointing in her frightened face. "You're the one who walked out on me the other day. Looks like you _are _part of Fury's freak troop," he sneered.

"_You're _the freak," Sam shook her head, getting up slowly.

"How do you figure that?"

Loki let out a surprised cry as he was suddenly hoisted into the air by his foot, and he flew into a nearby bus. Sam, using wind to bash him around, took a deep breath. "You're the one getting beaten by a human teenager. A _girl._"

Loki fell to the ground, but got right back up, his scepter in hand. He shot an engery blast at Sam, but she hid behind a car (that subsequently blew up). There was a bit of back-and-forth between them; Sam would try to set something on fire, and Loki would retaliate with a blast of blue energy. Whenever he got too close to her, she'd knock him back with wind. Still, it was obvious that in the long run, Loki was going to win this match.

"MASQUERADE!" I shouted, running closer. "Duck!"

She did so, bending over at the waist as I threw my shield right over her, narrowly missing the top of her head. It soared right over toward Loki, catching him in the chest; he fell to the ground, his scepter knocked out of his hand.

"You know, for a potential ruler of earth, you're not very good at combat," I said, stepping closer in a calm manner. Loki scowled at me as I stood over him; Sam came to my side to join me in looking down at the god.

"You humans are so naïve, aren't you," he shook his head, a perplexed expression on his face. "I don't need combat to succeed. And even if you win this battle, you won't have won the war. There are bigger things coming."

I turned away to pick up my shield, ignoring his banter, but it really sparked my curiosity. What was he going on about? Was Loki trying to imply that he hadn't been working alone?

Loki scooped up his scepter while I wasn't looking, and brought it around to crash on the top of my head. I fell to the ground, but sprung right back up, watching in surprise as Sam took Loki on all by herself - this time, in hand-to-hand combat.

She kicked him in the butt, and he turned around in astonishment. "Did you just . . . ?"

"C'mon, fatso, face me like a real man!"

I had the urge to cover my eyes and not watch whatever was going to happen next.

Loki went to shoot at Sam, but she knocked the weapon away, reaching in to punch Loki in the face. The god stopped her, grabbing her arm and twisting it around her back. "Oh, okay, ow! Ow ow ow!" she gasped, but then elbowed him in the stomach and stomped on his foot. He released her momentarily, and she reached down for her utility belt, where Stark had hoisted an array of tools.

"Let's see what this does!" she said, chucking it in Loki's face. It bounced off him to the ground, and we all looked down to see that she had thrown her GPS at him. "Oh, um, whoops." A smile cracked upon Loki's face as an alien hovercraft zoomed overhead. He grabbed Sam around the arm and dragged her up onto the hovercraft with him; they began to speed away through the air, but Sam let out a loud screech.

"Let me _go, _you pedophile!" she yelled, slapping him on the arm and kicking like a toddler. I got into position to throw my shield, hopefully knocking them down, but it was a wasted effort. Sam kicked Loki again and this time he let go of her, so that she went tumbling over the side of the hovercraft, landing on the ground with an "oof" and a groan.

One of the flying alien worm things came crashing down the street, letting out a fear-inspiring roar as it ripped through buildings. I shouted for Thor to get that special lightning of his ready . . . but the beast was getting awfully close. By now, Loki was all the way down the block, wrecking havoc in another part of town. We had lost our chance with him.

Just then, Sam got up from where she had fallen on the street. She stood, unaware of the looming threat behind her as she rubbed her head and looked around in confusion. I yelled, pointing and waving wildly. She turned and screamed when she saw the creature, but it was too late – it was literally only a few feet from her.

Sam disappeared as the monster came crashing down, right where she had been standing. I let out a strangled, angry cry, running towards the beast helplessly. Thor finished summoning his lightning and, pointing Mjolnir at the alien, he electrocuted it from the inside out. The beast came crashing to the ground, churning up chunks of cement as it died in the middle of the street.

"Cap? What's wrong?" Thor was asking, noticing my bellowing cries. I wasn't saying anything intelligent, just staring at the worm monster and angrily killing every alien that came within reach.

"I can close it!" Agent Romanoff's voice suddenly crackled through the ear-speaker. "Can anyone hear me? I can shut the portal down!"

"Do it!" I cried, as the remaining aliens around Thor and I scuttled off.

"No, wait!" Tony's voice joined Agent Romanoff's in the speaker.

"Stark, these things are still coming!" I looked up at the Chitauri ships flying through the portal, squinting against the harsh sun.

"I got a nuke coming in, it's gonna blow in less than a minute," he replied, and my heart was seized with fear. "And I know just where to put it," he muttered softly.

I climbed my way over to the dead worm-beast-alien in the street, watching Iron Man in the sky as he grabbed the nuke and tilted it up towards the portal.

And even though the situation was grave, I couldn't help but smile. Tony was finally sacrificing himself for others – he was learning his lesson. Now, maybe, he would deserve the title of "hero". And as I had promised, the title of "father", too, to Sam . . . if she were still around, watching this.

I stopped by the beast's side, right at the spot where Sam had been. There had to be a body or something, I knew she couldn't have just _disappeared _– but there was nothing. Just a puddle of water.

I knew something funky was going on when the water started to move. It all pooled in the same place, between the beast and my feet. Slowly, it started to climb higher and take on the form of something, like a big bubble of water.

I watched with amazed, wide eyes as the water solidified into the shape of a girl, lying crumpled on the ground.

Sam.

Once every droplet of water was gone, she groaned, rolling over onto my toes. Her eyes snapped open, looking feverish and panicked, but as soon as she saw my face her expression calmed down.

"Cap? What the _hell_ just happened?" were the only words out of her mouth.

"I was hoping you could tell me," I said stoically, tilting my head to the side, but on the inside I was heaving a sigh of relief. Sam was okay – she was _fine_. The beast hadn't crushed her; she was still in front of me, alive and well. I had honestly thought we had lost our first Avenger.

"I think . . ." she trailed off, lifting her hand and watching in amazement as it turned to water, and then back to skin and bone again.

"I think you _can_ control the element of water, Miss Silverman," I nodded at her, and she gasped in relief. "The instinct must've kicked in when you were about to be crushed."

She got up, and I helped her walk over to where Thor was standing, staring at the portal in the sky. Her ankle had been injured – not broken, probably just sprained – but it made it hard for her to walk, and I had to help her limp over the dead bodies of the aliens on the ground.

I filled her in on Tony and the nuke as the three of us stared at the sky, worried looks on our faces. Stark hadn't yet reappeared from through the portal, and there was a line of Chitauri advancing toward us from down the street. Sam raised her hand tiredly, holding them off with wind.

"C'mon, Tony," Sam muttered under her breath, leaning against me as she watched. The poor girl looked ready to pass out, and add to that the fact she was holding back a few aliens from attacking . . . if she fell asleep now, she probably wouldn't wake up. Now that her adrenaline rush was over, the battle was taking its toll on her.

Through the portal, we watched as a tiny red and yellow flower blossomed. It grew in size, its petals unfolding and spreading out like fingers reaching for the sky. I realized it was the nuke exploding, and soon it would be coming through the portal.

Tony still wasn't back yet.

"You're going to have to close the portal, Agent Romanoff," I said softly, my voice dull.

"But-"

"Close it!"

I didn't see her shut the Tesseract down, but I did watch as the edges of the portal seemed to fold inwards, just like the explosion the nuke had made was folding outwards.

The nearby aliens dropped to the ground, dead, as if a switch had been turned off. Sam collapsed when she put down her wall of wind, unable to stand but still staying conscious enough to watch the portal.

The thing had almost completely closed – and the explosion from the nuke had almost come through – when something tiny and shiny came hurtling through the hole. The portal shut immediately after, and I realized with a shock that the small object was Iron Man.

"Son of a gun," I said slowly, squinting up as he fell through the sky.

"He's not slowing down," Thor's deep voice narrated, as he began to swing his hammer around.

"I can't – I can't get up enough wind to slow his fall," Sam said in a weak voice, sitting on the ground and holding her hands up above her head. There were tears running down her face as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

Hulk came out of nowhere then, catching Iron Man and saving him. The big green man threw himself into a building, slowing his fall so that he could get Iron Man to the ground safely.

He dropped Tony right in front of us, and I reached forward quickly, ripping his mask off his face. Stark lay there unmoving, seemingly . . . well, seemingly dead.

We stared at him, unable to believe it. Even after all the man had done for us – even after he had changed his ways to save someone other than himself – he was still dead. He had left this earth unjustly, just like Agent Coulson. Sure, we had won the war, but we had lost-

Hulk let out a tremendous roar, enough the shake the nearby windows, and Tony jolted awake. I'll admit it: I breathed a sigh of relief. The guy may have been an asshole, but he didn't deserve to die – besides, he had redeemed himself.

The Hulk roared again, and Tony jumped. "What the hell?" he asked, sounding breathless. "What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me."

"We won," I said, a bit disbelievingly.

"Alright. Hey. Alright. Good job, guys," Tony nodded, attempting to be cheerful even though we could all see how tired and sore he was. "Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just take a day. Have you ever tried shawarma?" We all looked at him blankly. "There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I wanna try it."

Sam, still sitting at my feet, burst out in hysterical laughter. It was the kind of laughter you only heard in mental asylums; the kind that the villain used when he thought his plan had worked. "Heh. Eheh. Ehehehehehe. UAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHUA." We stared at her in worry as she just kept on laughing – before she passed out on the ground suddenly, completely and utterly exhausted.

"We're not finished yet," Thor said ominously, looking up at Stark Tower, where I knew Loki was.

Tony looked disappointed. "And then shawarma after," he affirmed.

You know, maybe things weren't so bad after all.

* * *

**A/N: **Andddd . . . that would be the end of the final battle! Just two chapters left until the (original) sequel!

Thanks so much to everyone who has alerted, favorited, read, and reviewed this story! Your support keeps me going; convinces me to stay up until three in the morning writing this ;) Honestly, though, thank you all SO MUCH. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :3 Make sure to check out the website! You have to type the follow address (minus the spaces) into the URL bar: lexiblazefanfiction . webs . com. I just added pictures of Masquerade's mask, so you should check them out!

Special thanks to my wonderful reviewers, as always: _YourTruly13, HannajimaShields, Mirre98, ILoveReadingAndWriting, brandibuckeye, scott6130, booklover1498, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, Jen Lennon, A Contradiction, Tbonechick2011, Invader Ivy, StarViky, Comiccrazygothgirl, _and _GoForTehGig! _Your words mean the world to me :P

Next update will be Sunday, so for now, please leave a review and tell me what you think! READERS ASSEMBLE!

- Alexa


	14. Ending and Stopping

Sam Silverman's POV

_There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story - Frank Herbert_

"If it's all the same to you . . . I'll have that drink now."

The seven of us Avengers stood over Loki, glaring down at him. Barton had his bow notched with an arrow, and it was pointed right at Loki's face. I got a really good look at Loki this time, at his pointy face and greasy black hair. He looked as if someone had smashed him into the ground repeatedly (in short, he looked like a whimpering piece of shit).

I stood between Tony and Cap, as we glared down at Loki alongside the others. I didn't have the personal vengeance against him like the others did; I hardly knew the guy. He hadn't done anything to piss me off, mostly because he had hardly even known about my existence. And I was perfectly fine with that.

I had woken up halfway on our way up to the penthouse in Stark Tower. Actually, it had been rather comical. Six of us — me, Cap, Tony, Barton, Tasha and Thor — had somehow managed to crowd into the elevator all at once. Doctor Banner, still in Hulk form, had chosen to climb up the outside of the tower. Just . . . don't ask. Anyway, I had woken up in Cap's arms to find the six of us all crowded in there, listening to crappy elevator music and tapping our feet awkwardly as we slowly rode to the top floor.

And now here we were, faced with the man (well, the god) that had caused us all this trouble. All of a sudden, he didn't look so terrifying anymore.

There were a lot of things that still needed to be done. We needed to address the mess we had made outside; we needed to check in with Fury again. We needed to clean Stark Tower and we needed to take care of this Loki business. But all Tony wanted to do was eat shawarma. He was so adamant about it that we finally gave in, saying we could go _right then_, even without taking care of Loki.

Buuuuuuut there were still some things that needed to come first.

"My forehead hurts like a bitch," I whined as Thor tied Loki up, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder as he put this muzzle-like thing over his mouth. I reached up to feel my forehead and brought my hand away slowly, realizing my fingers were now covered with a sticky red substance. Blood, obviously.

"You have a nasty cut above your eyebrow," Tasha said, peering at it. "You're looking quite pale from exhaustion and blood loss, too. I guess you hadn't noticed it before because of the adrenaline."

_Adrenaline_, I was finding, was a funny thing. I probably would've dropped dead in the middle of the battle or curled into a ball and cried if not for "adrenaline". That, instinct and the human "fight-or-flight" feeling were all that had kept me alive.

I could still remember every moment clearly — how I had turned the wheel of the petrol tanker too sharply, and realized the truck was about to roll over. I jumped out, thinking I'd be okay — thinking it was like in the movies, when the hero hardly even gets a scratch. But when I landed on the ground my ankle buckled under my weight, and then I found my head practically being smashed against the ground. After that, I had blacked out.

I woke up later — it could've been minutes or hours later, I honestly couldn't tell. But not only was the gas tanker gone, I was in an entirely different street (it was only on the elevator ride that Cap told me about the explosion). I had stood up, feeling lost and confused and looking for a familiar face. Cap had been not too far away, but he was panicking over something, and when I turned around a huge, flying alien beast was literally inches from my face.

I hadn't _decided_ to turn into water. I just . . . _had._ It was like how I hadn't decided to cause the earthquake back at my school. Some powers were going to take longer to learn to control than others, and water had luckily made its appearance right when I panicked and needed an escape.

It had felt weird, being water. Like my mind was spread out on the ground (almost as if a zombie had smashed my brains apart. Okay, sorry, that was weird). I couldn't see or smell or hear, but I could sense everything, and I felt loose and free. As if nothing could possibly hold me back in my formless shape. I had pulled myself together (literally), and then I went from being a puddle back into being a human girl.

On the elevator ride up to the penthouse, I had two incidents. The first was when the ceiling panel accidentally caught fire (I _swear_ it was not on purpose), and the second when my head — and only my head — had turned into water. Honestly, it had been the weirdest feeling to have my _head_ dripping down the rest of my body and onto the floor. But once again, I had pulled it together (only to find the other people in the elevator flipping shit).

In the battle, I had been a mess. Once the whole "petrol" thing was over, I had felt useless, and I stopped moving. That made the adrenaline go away, and that, in turn, made everything hit me like a bus. My hunger, my cuts and bruises and injuries, my exhaustion, my mental instability. I had passed out as soon as I knew everyone was safe – my anxiety had been the last thing keeping me awake.

But although my body was beyond tired, my mind was still upset and anxious. And so I had woken to find Steve carrying me, with Tony gently holding my bloodstained mask in his hands.

"Tony, I think we should get cleaned up before we leave for shawarma," Tasha said, looking at the stubborn billionaire. Tony gave her a look, but one glance at my forehead was enough to convince him.

"Fine," he sighed in an annoyed way, like a child. "Let me fix up your cut, Sammy."

"No, let me do it," Steve suddenly barged in, shooting a glare at Tony. Steve was a bit overprotective of me, but I found it cute (as weird as that sounds).

"No really, Captain, it's fine," Tony said loudly, moving to stand between me and the supersoldier.

"You need to get out of your Iron Man suit," Steve raised his eyebrows.

"You need to tend to your own wound," Tony pointed at Steve's bloodstained uniform, where he had been shot.

"I'm fine. Now move, and let me take care of Sam."

"You don't know where the bandages are. This is my home; I make the rules."

"I'm a trained soldier. I know how to deal with wounds like this."

"You're not laying on finger on her, Rogers."

"Nor are you, Stark. You don't even know what you're doing when it comes to first aid."

"You're just jealous because I'm her favorite."

"PLEASE, boys, stop fighting!" I shouted, holding my hands over my ears. "Could you be any more immature?" Both Tony and Steve turned to look at me in shock as I squinted my eyes, trying to ignore my pounding headache. I heard Loki snicker through his muzzle from the other side of the room.

"I don't want either of you _dumbasses_ fixing my face. _ROBIN HOOD_! You must know basic first aid. Get over here and help me."

And that was why it was Agent Barton who bandaged up my face.

"You've been causing a lot of fuss around here," Barton admitted, glancing at Steve and Tony, who were now in the kitchen arguing over what glasses to use to get everyone water. He cleaned my forehead wound gently, but it still stung whenever he touched it.

I sighed. "I'm honestly just trying to get through this with my head still on my shoulders."

Barton smiled. "So you're Masquerade, right?" I nodded as he started wrapping white gauze around my head.

"And what do you think of this crazy group of people?"

"None of us should even be in the same room together," I admitted. "And although I now feel like I have a brother and a dad . . . I still don't want to be here."

He laughed. "That's fine. How old are you, anyway?"

"Seventeen," I answered without missing a beat. "I still have a month and a half left of grade twelve, and then I'm finally done high school. My birthday's on June 13th."

"What are you going to do post-secondary?" Barton started rubbing some of the excess blood off my face with a wet cloth.

I sighed. "I don't know, exactly. At the moment, I'm lined up to go into a university in Washington, to study languages, psychology and English. I guess I want to become a book editor," I shrugged. "Honestly, though, that's not what I really want."

"I'm sure S.H.I.E.L.D could give you a job. Especially now that you've fought with the, um, Avengers."

"Yeah, but I don't _want_ a job with S.H.I.E.L.D," I complained, pushing his hands away from my face. "I want to go to Rome and study archaeology and architecture and art. But not only is it too expensive for me to _live_ there, it's too expensive to pay for the university. I can get in," I shrugged, "and I have enough balls to move away from my family and to a country where I don't speak the language. I just can't afford it." I caught Tony staring at me then, but decided to ignore him.

My 3-minute talk with Clint over, we all decided to get into the car. Well, _a_ car. We kind of just went down onto the street and picked one that still had the keys in the ignition. Tony, of course, insisted he drive, and picked the fanciest car on the street.

Loki unfortunately had to come with us. We couldn't just _leave_ him in Stark Tower, and we didn't really have anywhere else to put him. So we agreed to take him to the shawarma place, but then leave him locked in the car.

We ran into our next problem — there weren't enough seats. Tony deemed me, Thor, Bruce and Steve unable to drive another car, so he sent Tasha and Clint off on their own to find a suitable means of transportation for themselves. His reasoning for not letting the rest of us drive another car? "Sammy would pass out at the wheel or attempt to blow something up, Thor's a god and will probably never understand how cars work, I don't even want to _know_ how Bruce would react to traffic and the random cars lying in the middle of the road, and Steve's too much of a museum relic to ever learn how to drive a modern car. Quite like Thor, actually." Needless to say, none of us were very pleased.

Tony climbed into the front seat and Bruce, of course, got the entire passenger seat to himself. It was then that things got awkward. There were four of us left and only three backseats, and all three of the remaining guys were big enough to take two seats up on their own.

Loki was shoved in first, and Thor climbed in afterwards "to be beside his brother". Steve, of course, got the last seat. That just left me.

"You're going to have to sit in someone's lap, Sammy," Tony said happily, as if he was enjoying my potential discomfort.

I wasn't cowed, though. "I think I'll sit in Loki's lap," I grinned, sticking my head in the car to gaze straight at the god. "It'll be like, extra punishment for his crimes. And I'll make sure to fart a lot."

"Could you be any _more_ immature?" was the general cry from the boys as I stood outside, laughing.

In the end, I wasn't allowed to sit on Loki, and instead had to spread myself out on Steve and Thor's laps. I leaned forward into the front part of the car to turn on the radio, and switch it to a rock station. To my genuine pleasure, _Kashmir_ was playing.

After a few minutes though, Thor ruined the song. "What is this abomination you Midgardians listen to and call music?" he asked loudly, a look of disgust on his face.

"This_ abomination_ is Led Zeppelin," I said crossly, leaning back against Steve (who I'm pretty sure shared Thor's distaste in the music).

"On Asgard, our music i-"

"No one cares, Thor," I groaned, leaning the back of my head against the car window.

"Chill out, Sammy," Tony said from the front seat, already ignoring the speed limit.

"Don't call me Sammy!"

"Well, it's_ someone's_ time of the month."

My face turned a bright red, as did Steve's (he's such a prude, but it's pretty cute). I honestly didn't know what to say to that, except a "nuh-uh." I shrunk back closer to Steve after that, not speaking for the rest of the ride. I was sitting in the Captain's lap with the back of my head against the car window, and my legs were resting on Thor's lap. My stinky feet, of course, rested on Loki. HAHA.

Just being near Steve really helped to calm me down. After that stupid "time of the month" comment (it _wasn't_, for the record), he reached out and put an arm around my shoulders. I laid my head on his chest, breathing in his scent slowly. Steve really was like a brother, even though I had only known him for two days. But I guess it was because we had already been through so much together — and I had needed support. Although Tony was great, Steve was the one that was there for me; the one that took care of me.

Our shawarma outing was a strange affair. We got there just after Tasha and Clint (who had ridden a motorcycle), and everyone piled into the tiny restaurant. We locked Loki in the car, of course. The cook and waiter — the last two people there — were absolutely astonished (and slightly terrified) to find us in their shop, ordering food as they tried to clean up the damage from the war. One of the giant worm beasts had died on the street just outside.

We ordered a_ lot_ of food. Not only had none of us had a proper meal in a few days, but Bruce was eating for two, Steve had a super appetite to go with his supersoldier-ness, and Thor was a god, used to eating a lot. I was famished as well, and actually ordered two whole shawarmas. I had never had one before — it was Greek food, sort of like a wrap. They roasted the meat on a vertical stick, which I thought was pretty cool.

We ate our entire meal in silence. Tony kept looking like he was going to say something (along the lines of "this shawarma sucks"), but to my astonishment, he kept his mouth closed. Thor just ate and ate and ate, as did Bruce. Steve fell asleep at the table. Clint and Tasha kept exchanging glances, and I got the feeling there was "something" going on between those two. Me? I just sat there, eating my food slowly and enjoying the fact that I was still alive with all my limbs still attached.

I knew life was only going to get harder after this. Now that I was Masquerade, S.H.I.E.L.D probably wasn't going to leave me alone. And although I still didn't want to be a superhero . . . I didn't want to lose the new friendships I had made, either. Steve was like my brother; always there for me. He was such a gentleman. And Tony was practically a father, especially because he was just like me. He had a lot of walls, but I think he was secretly aching for someone to take them down.

It's weird, thinking that we've actually made it to the end of this story. It's been quite the adventure — both living it _and_ re-telling it through words. I've finally got to hear what's gone on in Tony and Steve's heads. Some things have surprised me; most haven't. But here it is: the end. We actually made it through this whole journal.

But we haven't made it through the whole story. There's a lot of other shit that's happened since our first visit to the shawarma joint, and now. A lot of things, and people, have changed. And maybe I can convince the others to help me write and record our other adventures, too.

Yes, it was me who had the idea to get everyone to write this down in the first place.

And aren't you glad we did?

* * *

**A/N: BUT WAIT! There's more. A _very interesting _epilogue will be up in two days ^_^**

**On Tuesday, the last chapter/epilogue will go up - and so will the first chapter for the sequel! I sincerely hope you guys will follow me and Sam over there :D**

**Thanks so much for everyone's support, and for sticking with me this far into the story! I honestly couldn't have done it without you all. Special thanks to the reviewers: _cucumbersrockursocks, Comiccrazygothgirl, StarViky, brandibuckeye, HannajimaShields, GoForTehGig, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, Invader Ivy, Tbonechick2011, Jen Lennon, Wolf Eared Girl, LaughingLadybug, A Contradiction, booklover1498 _and _TA-twinArmageddons_! Your words mean the world to me :)**

**Reember to check out the website (you have to type this into the URL bar, without the spaces): lexiblazefanfiction . webs . com. There are lots of pictures of the heroes - and Sam! - on there. Thanks again for everyone's support, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please press the pretty blue button down below and tell me what you thought :D**

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Alexa Blaze**


	15. Brothers are Better

Steve Rogers' POV

_Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero - Marc Brown_

It was weird to think that everything was over. That everything we had worked for in the past few days was over and done with. That now . . . I had to go back to just being Steve Rogers, that weird guy who locks himself in his Brooklyn apartment all day.

Getting back in the Captain America suit had been weird enough. But getting _out_ of it again? After I had seen so much; learned more about everything?

I wasn't so sure I _wanted_ to go back to being boring, depressed Steve.

The solitude had been nice, I guess. I had been wallowing in my own self-pity; my own depression. There had been days where I had wanted to stay in bed forever; days where I couldn't believe the sun was still out there somewhere, shining.

I can't put into words how painful everything is for me. I had a life, back in the forties. And to suddenly leave it like I had — without even saying goodbye to everyone and everything I knew and loved — hurt me more than any bullet ever could. Knowing that I was still alive and in my early twenties while all my old colleagues were dead was a mind-blowing thought.

Even now, I still keep thinking that I'm going to wake up, and it's going to all just be a dream. But then I'm reminded that this world has gone on and changed without me, and now I have to learn to adapt.

Back then, I thought a lot about Sam's speech about those talking lions and the crazy monkey. How she said talking about her problems would be her best way to get over them. She was probably right . . . I needed to talk to someone about Bucky, and Peggy, and my life as a soldier. The thing was, it was so much harder for me. No one could even begin to imagine what I was going through.

Trying to come to terms with the modern world was hard enough, but then all this Avengers business had started. As if modern technology didn't give me enough of a headache. Now I had to deal with narcissistic Tony Stark and the rest of the crew, all with their own problems and secrets. It was enough of a shock to accept the fact that I was in a completely different time, with a different group of people, but everybody I knew was dead. Everybody I cared about. . .

I was a soldier, obviously; when I went into war I knew how high the chances were that my friends — my brothers in arms — would die. But now, it's not even a battle. They're all just . . . _gone_.

I guess what it boils down to is that I was lonely. I'm still lonely. God, I'm so alone, it makes my heart ache. Even now, I'm still the fish out of water. I keep trying to find a balance with the modern world, and it never works out.

But maybe that's a lie. I have my new troop now; a new group of friends, a new army to do battle with. I need to let go of the others — not forget them, of course, just let go — and accept the fact that The Avengers are my family now.

Where is all this leading, you may ask? Well, in truth, I'm not entirely sure. I didn't even come to these realizations until the next adventure. Sam's already gone out and bought a journal for that. But here I am now, finishing up the last few pages of this one. There's still a little bit of story left.

It started, I guess, when we said our final goodbyes, and Loki and Thor disappeared with the Tesseract (and just in time, too; Sam and Tony had spent the last ten minutes teasing Loki because he hadn't gotten any shawarma the other day). Everyone was cleaned up and in normal clothing, ready to leave this part of our lives behind. But were we really doing that? I think that deep inside each of us, we knew that if duty called, The Avengers would be back and ready for action.

For that, I was glad. I had decided I wasn't entirely finished with being Cap. Not yet.

I was just getting on my motorbike, ready to head back to the comfort of Brooklyn when Sam appeared in front of me. She looked pale, and my eyebrows creased in worry as I wondered what was wrong.

"S.H.I.E.L.D's letting me go," she said, her mouth trembling slightly.

"Isn't that what you want?" I asked, a bit confused. "You won't be locked up anymore. Did Fury deem you . . . "stable" . . . or something?"

She nodded frantically, her hands in fists at her sides. "Yeah, but . . . but it means I'll have to go _home_," she whispered the last word.

It dawned on me, then: just how terrified Sam was of finding out how much damage she had caused back in Chicago.

I stared at her, and she stared right back, neither of us speaking. My fingers twitched; she clenched her jaw. The silence stretched on as we just stared at each other, unsure of the next move.

In the end, I inclined my head in the typical "noble Captain" gaze. "Let's go, Sam," I said in that stiff, awkward military way of mine. "I'll accompany you back to Chicago."

She stared at me in disbelief for a few more minutes, and then whispered "Really?"

I took a deep breath, nodding. The look of immediate relief that crossed her face was almost heartbreaking, and I helped her onto the back of my motorbike.

We rode to the train station, catching the next available train down to Washington, and then back up to Chicago. I liked the trains; they were a normal thing back in my day, and they hadn't changed all that much since then.

The journey to Chicago took a full day. At first, Sam and I sat side-by-side silently, gazing out the window. Sam fell asleep on my shoulder, and I think I dozed off for a while there, too. But on the train from Washington to Chicago, we were a lot chattier.

Sam loved sharing stories, I found. Whether it was about her cat Trooper or her favorite math teacher, she never seemed to run out of things to say. Not only did I learn about random facts from her life, but also some historical events that I had missed, like something called "9/11" and a huge tsunami in 2004.

Our conversations always started out awkward — we didn't know each other that well — but soon enough, things flowed freely. I found it strange to be talking to a high school girl, especially one from this day and age, but because of Sam's love of history we had a lot in common.

I admitted, too, that I felt guilty about Sam's powers. It had practically been my fault — her father had been trying to replicate _my_ serum, after all. But Sam hadn't been the least bit upset. She just accepted it as a fact of life, and didn't like connecting _me_, the real Steve Rogers, with her elemental problems.

The closer we got to Chicago, the quieter and gloomier Sam got.

"I'm scared," she admitted to me as we finally got off the train, "of what I'm going to find. I don't know if I burned down the whole school; I don't know how many people I may have killed," her voice trembled. There was one thing she left unspoken, though: "I don't know the fate of my brother, and I'm not so sure I want to."

On the long walk to Sam's house, the silence returned. I didn't know how to fill it, and quite frankly, I didn't think it would be a good idea to do so. Sam was trembling slightly, looking sick.

Her house was on a quiet, nondescript street in the middle of the city. I don't know why, but I was kind of expecting a big sign that said "The Silvermans' Place" or "Dangerous Father Lives Here" or something. I would have walked right past it had Sam not been there.

"Look," she said, pointing at a silver car in the street. "That's my car," she peered in the windows. "My iPod's still in there. Mom must have taken the spare set of keys and driven the car home after . . . after the . . ."

We turned towards the house then, and slowly walked up the front walk. Her house was medium-size and painted a dark red with cream trim; it seemed to be three floors, with a two-car garage and a big tree out front. Sam grabbed a spare house key that was hidden in the tree trunk, and glanced towards the front door.

"I can't do it," she suddenly exclaimed, throwing her hands up and storming back down the walk. "I don't want to know."

"Sam," I said gently, and she reluctantly turned to glance at me sadly. "You're going to have to find out eventually. It'll be okay. Trust me."

She peered at me, a queer expression on her face. "You know, if I walk in there and everything's fine," she took a deep breath, ". . . I'm going to put down the mask. Granted, I haven't been Masquerade for long, but if there's something for me to go back to . . . then I'll go back to it. I don't think I'll continue being a super, if there's still a life for me here."

I nodded solemnly. "If that's your decision, Sam. I respect it. I may not think it's the right one," I couldn't help but add, "but it's your choice."

She bit her lip, and then rushed me in a hug. "I'll miss you, Steve," she said, as I pulled her closer to me. "I hardly know you, but you've been a great friend."

"Hey," I shrugged. "Just because you're not a super, doesn't mean we can't keep in touch."

She let out a strange laugh, letting go of me and climbing the steps to her front door. With surprisingly steady hands, she unlocked it and pushed the door open quietly.

The house was dark on the inside, and we both jumped when there was a tiny "meow" sound from the floor. Sam flicked on the front hall light and bent down, picking up a grey and black tabby cat.

"Trooper!" she squealed, her worries suddenly forgotten. "Hello, my pretty kitty! Oh, how I've missed you! I forgot how soft your fur is, baby, and how cute your little face is! Did you miss your mommy?" she gushed, and I blushed at her strange show of affection. Sam carried the cat into the kitchen, setting it down on the counter and petting it as I stayed in the front hall, partially hidden by shadows. "Did you even notice I was gone? I certainly hope so. I love you so much, kitty, I hope you love me back. I think you should love me back. I practically saved your ass from an invasion; I think I deserve a little love-"

"Invasion?"

Sam screamed and whirled around, facing another door leading into the kitchen. I couldn't see who it was who had appeared, but judging by her cry of "Luke!" and then the sudden, hurried sob, I was guessing it was her brother.

"Oh my God, you're alive!" I heard her scream from the other room. I peeked around the corner of the doorway, wanting to see what was going on, but not wanting to intrude.

Sam was hugging the life out of a boy of about fifteen years old, and he hugged her back just as fiercely. The resemblance between the two was so uncanny I almost had to do a double take, to make sure Sam hadn't suddenly just cut her hair. But no — it was definitely her brother.

"I thought you died in the fire," Sam was saying, and I could hear her trying to hold back relieved tears.

The younger boy snorted, pulling away from his sister. "I'm perfectly fine. It's your friend Dana you should be worried about. She broke a leg."

"Oh, my God," Sam clapped her hands over her mouth. "How many . . ." she whispered the next part. "How many people . . . died?"

Luke gave her a crazy look, as if she had suddenly sprouted antennae. "No one died, dumbass. It's a school. I mean, sure, the fire was bad — it burned down the entire science wing — but we don't practice fire drills for nothing. Dana's leg was the only major casualty, and a few kids inhaled too much smoke. The firetruck got there before anyone could _die_. Try and be realistic, Sam," he shook his head. "God, you're so dramatic sometimes." In the corner of the room, I noticed a TV blaring. There were colored pictures flashing across the screen; more news on the attack on Manhattan, of course. It had only been two days ago, and things were still being revealed to the public.

Sam had to lie down on the floor, she was shaking so badly. "I can't believe . . . that after all the worry I've gone through . . . _no one fucking died_." She looked up at Luke questioningly. "Did the fire and the earthquake destroy anything else?"

Luke shrugged. "The power was out for a few hours, and as I said, the whole science wing is now a smoldering pile of ash. Why are you so worked up about this? And where the hell have you _been_ the past week?"

Sam sat up, leaning against the wall. "Lukie . . ." she reached out for his hand, like she had done with me so many times. "Dad's serum worked. It gave me power over the elements. I lost control, and . . . I'm the one who set the fire. And caused the earthquake."

Luke ran his hands over his face, staying silent for a few moments, but then shrugged. "Yeah, I kind of guessed."

"WHAT? How?"

"You were the only one who was seriously panicking during the fire," he started, "and then you mysteriously disappeared. When I got home, there were government officials _everywhere_. Mom really had called child services. Dad's gone for good; I don't know if they locked him up or put a restraining order on him or what, but he's gone." Luke bowed his head, and Sam soothingly pushed his hair off his forehead.

"I'm sorry," she said genuinely. "I'll miss him."

Luke ignored her comment, and kept talking. "I think the officials knew it was you who had caused all the damage. They brought me, Mark, Mom, Dana and Penny all in for questioning, but none of us knew anything for sure. And all of a sudden, the crazy police activity just . . . stopped. It was just like the first time, when those S.H.I.E.L.D people stepped in."

"Yeah, they probably stopped everything again. Were any charges laid?"

"The government blamed it on dust in the walls, or something, and just a really freaky earthquake. The weird thing," Luke added, "was that Mom was fine with your disappearance. It was like . . . she knew where you had gone."

"S.H.I.E.L.D probably informed her that I was, er, in safe hands."

Just then, the television in the corner switched to a video from the middle of the battle. On screen, Sam — as Masquerade — lifted her hand and knocked a Chitauri hovercraft out of the air using wind. The three aliens from the craft got up and headed towards her, but she made quick work of them. I ran past, a blur of red, blue and white.

"Cap!" Masquerade shouted; her words were practically drowned out by the other sounds of explosions. The camera was shaky and the picture quality was terrible, but it was still easy to see what was going on. "I've gotten most of the civilians down underground – can you get the police force to round up everyone else?" Masquerade yelled.

"Already on it!" I barely heard myself respond as an alien ship shot at me, and Sam knocked it out of the air. It was weird, to see an account of us fighting on television.

Sam (the real one in the kitchen) ducked her head, avoiding her brother's now-piercing gaze. His mouth was gaping open as he looked between his sister and the screen (which was now playing a clip of Sam swearing at the camera guy).

"Steve?" I heard Sam nervously say loud enough for me to hear. "I think . . . I think you should come out now."

I stepped into the kitchen, towering over the two teens on the ground. Luke stared up at me with an openly astonished look on his face, and I crouched down beside Sam, feeling incredibly awkward.

I think both Sam and I had been expecting Luke to freak out, realizing we were Cap and Masquerade. But his reaction was so much different.

"Is this guy why you've been missing for a week?" Luke gasped, his face red. "Did you run off and _elope _with him?"

"What? No!" I exclaimed, taken aback and completely shocked.

"Then did he _kidnap _you? Who the hell are you, anyway? What are you doing with my sister?" The poor guy was getting really worked up.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Sam exclaimed, straightening up and waving her hands around. "No, we did not _elope_," she shook her head, forcing a laugh, "and he did not _kidnap _me. This is Steven Rogers. He's like . . . he's like a brother to me."

"So you're _replacing_ me?" Luke shouted, spitting angrily.

"Oh, God, no! Calm down!" Sam yelled back, panicking. "Is it really that hard to figure out, Luke? Have you even been watching the news? You know, the attack in NYC yesterday?" Luke nodded, his face still red as he glared at me.

"_I'm_ Masquerade," Sam pointed to herself, "and this, this is . . ." she trailed off, probably realizing she shouldn't be revealing my identity.

"I'm Captain America," I cut in, deciding that this poor guy had the right to know.

Luke's offensive stance deflated as he stared at the two of us in disbelief. "So, Sam, you're like . . . a _superhero_?"

She looked at the ground uncomfortably, mumbling "I guess."

". . . But I thought Captain America died, like, a hundred years ago?"

"Seventy years, actually," I frowned. "I was frozen in suspended animation for a while."

Luke ignored me, obviously not understanding what that meant. "Does that mean you're an Avenger?" he turned back to his sister, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

Sam looked at me, as if searching for the answer. Now . . . now was her test. I remembered what she said to me outside, about "putting down the mask". Now was the time she got to choose. If she said "Yes" to Luke's question, it would mean she was going to continue being a superhero. And if she said "No", then it would mean Masquerade was quite possibly the shortest-lived superhero ever.

She looked at me pleadingly again, as if hoping I knew the right answer. I just smiled slightly, knowing she'd make the right choice. That her _final _choice was now, and she knew it.

She took a deep breath, turning back to look at her brother. ". . . Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. I'm an Avenger."

* * *

**A/N: And here we are, at the end of the story! Can you believe we've made it so far in such little time? **

**Thank you SO MUCH to all the people who have supported me throughout this entire thing! I couldn't have done it without you all; you've made this such a pleasure. I could never have expected such wonderful feedback, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. One last shout-out to my reviewers for last chapter: _Tbonechick2011, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, HannajimaShields, Comiccrazygothgirl, EmiStone, LaughingLadybug, Jen Lennon, GoForTehGig, brandibuckeye, Lady Firewing, Invader Ivy, booklover1498, StarViky, A Contradiction, Cresta83, Wolf Eared Girl, TA-twinArmageddons, _and _ILoveReadingAndWriting!_ All of your words have kept me going, and I can't thank you enough for it :) Hopefully you'll follow me over to the sequel!**

**YES, there is a sequel! There will be a LOT more Steve romance going on, I promise you ;P It's already been posted, but it hasn't shown up yet, so just keep checking my profile. The title is "Silver Smoke", and I hope everyone wil continue to read and enjoy it! I've got big things planned ;) Here, you can cheat the system by typing this into the URL bar (remove the spaces): www . fanfiction s / 8257854 / 1 / **

**Until next time, guys, and thanks so much for reading! Please just leave me one last review, telling me what you thought of everything :3 As always . . . **

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Alexa Blaze**


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